#an obstruction to be removed so the Love Can Bloom

[grimalkinmessor]

Ranting about the Death Note amnesia trope below, if you like the No-Memories ending scroll past because this is just me expanding on why I don't like it

I think that the reason I tend to despise the Memory Loss ending is because it's framed as a happy one. I can understand it when it's written as a sad or bittersweet end, but not when it's written as a hopeful or wholly happy one.

Not just because I don't think it's happy, but also because it just seems disingenuous, especially when framed as a loving ending.

I don't know, it just—it takes away a lot of what I like about Lawlight as a ship. Enemies to Lovers at its core is about seeing the darkest parts of someone, having someone know every nasty, cruel bit of your soul, and falling in love with them anyway. Not even in spite of it—with Lawlight specifically, I see them as people that fall in love with each other BECAUSE of those parts of themselves. The parts that they hide away from the world, the parts that no one else accepts.

The memory loss trope just,,,wipes all of that away. It takes away the struggle of getting better. It's cutting out the parts of your lover that you don't like or that don't fit your narrative to "fix" them.

I think, at its core, what bothers me most is that it takes away the choice.

Without his memories, Light is stripped of his choice to decide whether or not he wants to better himself. Personally, I don't see L as someone who can redeem him (that's also another reason I dislike this trope), so for L to yoink Light's memories of being Kira and say "All fixed!" is like someone sticking a bandaid over a gaping wound. Because he's not someone who can stitch it closed, who can help it heal, because he is an intrinsic part of Kira's story. As an antagonist. An equal.

It rubs me viscerally the wrong way, especially when it's framed as the only way for them to be happy together. L isn't a good person. Light isn't a good person. If they were I wouldn't be nearly so invested in their relationship.

Don't get me wrong, I also hate it when L just,,,,magically gains a moral compass. If he wants to be a good man I need him to work for it, I don't want him OR Light to have an easy way out, to have a magic Get-Rid-Of-The-Difficult-Things-About-My-Lover-Free button.

But also, just. Let them be fucked up. They're toxic and awful and perfect for each other and I want them at each other's throats hand in hand for the rest of their lives.

I think that's my bottom line—I don't like the memory loss ending because it makes them both out to be something they're not.

L is not a good man with pure intentions. If he wants Light to give up his memories I take it to mean he wants the easy route. He wants to be with a Light that doesn't remember that he hated him or why, that doesn't remember all the bad things he's done, that's still an innocent child in a lot of ways—because it's easy. It's fast. He doesn't have to work for it. He doesn't have to work for forgiveness or try to give it because the man that he needs to forgive and be forgiven by doesn't exist anymore.

Light isn't an innocent little boy that's been corrupted by an evil entity. He's a man who's made mistakes, who's arrogant and closed-minded and stubborn and in denial, who calls himself evil but refuses to believe it, who smiled while he killed a grieving woman, who smiled while he killed a friend and held them close, who was so terribly lonely that his first friend was a monster.

And, if you're going to go that route, acknowledge that it's toxic too. Acknowledge that Light is going to struggle and he won't remember why. Acknowledge that underneath everything he's still Kira, because Kira was just a set of decisions that Light made, not a malevolent entity that possessed him. Acknowledge that Light giving up his memories is him giving up attempting to redeem himself, or attempting to exist in certain capacities completely.

An add-on—personally, I don't see L as someone who would want Light to give up his memories. Because L doesn't usually take the easy way out. It's a game between them, and he's playing to win and win completely. While he DOES play dirty, he still wants his opponent to acknowledge that he won, and he wants them to remember it. Light losing his memories would be a loss for L too, in a way, because then he's lost his playmate. He's lost his equal. He's lost the person that's going to fight him on everything that matters and yet agree with him on everything that doesn't. He's lost the person that can appreciate every move he makes.

Plus... there's something to be said for evil husbands that are on opposite sides, isn't there? ;3

[rielzero]

This will probably not go anywhere, but since this is my blog I wanted to talk about this for a bit. Just a rant.

I LOVE games like God of War / God of War Ragnarok and Horizon Forbidden West- The graphics are beautiful and everything is gorgerous.

The issue is however- because these games have hyper-realism as an aesthetic, the lightning behaves similarly- Especially flashing effects.

I have severe light sensitivity. I wear special glasses when I go outside, when playing games, I wear blue-light glasses to help relieve them as well.

Unfortunately with how much more games aim to look realistic, so do their lights mimic effects that bother me much in real life. And there’s no way to turn it off. I don’t want to play in color blind mode because I am not color blind. I want a way to tone down the brightness without everything in the game becoming hard to see.

I don’t know how to explain this except of describing more of an example; Cyberpunk 2077- I cannot get into it because the neon, reflections, and high textured and colorful atmosphere puts my brain in overdrive mode and I can’t play it for more than 15 minutes without having to put my head in my pillow because my eyes hurt so much. Blue light glasses do not help at all.

I call this ‘’colorgore’’ or ‘’brightgore’’ Because of this, I can’t even get into the game at all. I don’t care for it.

Horizon Zero Dawn, Forbidden West and god of war, ragnarok are different because the stories pulled me in right away. The only downside is that after a good 30 minutes I have to pause the game and just rest my eyes. I blink a lot to make sure I’m not forgetting to blink. I’m not the person who clinically needs eye-drops, trust me. I only have pain in my eyes when I’m playing games with hyper-realistic light or going outside without my daylight glasses.

What’s the difference between hyper-realistic light vs older games? (for the untrained eye)

Here is a screenshot from Skyrim.

The light here is balanced with everything in the surroundings. There is not an abundance of nature, fauna, or textures that make the game look even more real, the light does not react to all the textures differently. It reacts to all things in its surroundings equally. Unlike in real life- which semi-realism mimics, were all things reflect light differently- making some objects brighter, shinier or more detailed. 

Everything in older games like Skyrim is balanced in light- simplified, and removes any stressors from real daylight / night blindness that I experience in real life. My eyes don’t hurt when I play games like this. I never cared for all this ‘’graphics need to be more real’’ stuff cuz it hurts my quality of gameplay experience. You can see that the game isn’t real, my eyes relax more and are less focused on every light particle, shadow, distance- everything. It absorbs the picture with much less stress.

Now here’s some screenshots of Horizon.

The light does highly affect everything. The contrast is strong, every texture responds different to light as it would in real life. There’s fog, bloom, every corner and edge is reflecting and responding to light. My eyes react to the screenshot itself the same way as when I am playing the game. It’s absorbing all the information from every single particle because the light is realistic. 

And that goes for night time as well, night time is even worse for me to fight animal robots that jump around and use flash-grenade attacks. (which I despise! Please- give an option to turn those flash effects off!! I want to be able to enjoy these games without getting frustrated from eyestrain.) And yes, I checked. They don’t have it.

God of war has this exact same problem. Elves and Valkyries use flashy attacks- there’s one or two Valkyrie bosses that use blinding attacks that makes the screen flash white. The whole point behind the flash attacks is that it obstructs your gameplay vision for a moment- but for me this does more than affect gameplay; it actually hurts to fight these monsters when I could otherwise deal with them fine and actually enjoy the fight.

I cannot begin to explain to people who don’t experience this; this shit hurts so much. Even as the image itself. That brightness mixed with the highly detailed particles of light, textures, everything else- physically hurts my eyes to look at. Because it sees EVERYTHING the way everything responds to light as if it was real.

Cyberpunk’s city is the worst offender because raytracing adds mirrors that reflects light realistically. this is all cool and epic technology, but turning off the raytracing does not improve it, if everything else still flashes like hell.

I never cared for the whole ‘’graphics need to be good’’ shit, the gameplay and story sells it for me. I don’t care if you hate stiff expressions or physical gameplay bugs- it doesn’t break immersion for me, it makes me laugh. I am having a genuine good time.

Just don’t hurt my eyes please. Dear devs make an eyestrain relief mode, were flash effects and attacks are simplified, were daylight just is a little less bright. It’s all about color correction- (again: changing the graphic settings that you get before you start a game do not affect this, turning the brightness down actually makes stuff harder to see, because it becomes less balanced. I just need the brights to be less bright, not everything else to also become dark.)

Midnight suns has become one of my fav games this year. And before you say this one is also having light stuff going on- If you look well the colors are much more balanced and the backgrounds aren’t as high in particle and texture light reflection as the cyberpunk picture. Tony’s armor has a nice metal effect, but its not ridiculously shiny and the colors are pretty well balanced even as it reflects light. Doctor Strange’s magic effects don’t ‘’flash’’ they just glow. There’s a difference between glowing and flashing. The light of the glow reflects to the rest of the character, but the brightness is more controlled and balanced. Every other texture from the hair to the clothes responds similarly to the light, rather than uniquely like in horizon or god of war. There’s contrast but not too much contrast. It’s dark but not too dark. It’s light but not too light. This picture is both pleasing to look at and doesn’t hurt my eyes at all.

If someone out there is a game dev in the industry and happens on this.. Please spread this out- It would make my life much easier to playing the new generation realism aesthetic of up and coming games. 

If you experience this too, let me know. I feel so alone in this. (I play on performance modes because graphic mode is even worse.)

Breath of the wild’s flat cell shade aesthetic doesn’t do this to my eyes. Pokémon games and other toony games don’t do this to my eyes. It really is the mix of high texture / objects responding to light realistically that makes everything too bright for me. The contrast is beautiful but it just hurts.

It affects my ability to enjoy the games.

I’ll list below examples in case this is helpful.

Games that affect my eyes: Witcher 3 Spiderman 2018 Remastered God of war / god of war ragnarok Cyberpunk 2077 Horizon Forbidden West / Horizon Zero Dawn Games that don’t affect my eyes: Conan Exiles Runescape 3 Spiderman 2018 Fallout 4 Skyrim LOZ: Breath of the wild Marvel’s Midnight Suns Middle earth: Shadow of Mordor

[optimizedair]

HVAC Maintenance Checklist for Every Season

In the world of home comfort, your heating, ventilation, and air conditioning (HVAC) system is the unsung hero. Quietly toiling away, it ensures your living space remains just the way you like it, whether the mercury is plummeting or soaring. Your HVAC system does more than just keep you comfortable; it's integral to maintaining ideal indoor temperatures and air quality. While our trusty HVAC systems work diligently in the background, they're not entirely self-sufficient. Regular maintenance is the key to unlocking their full potential. This article is your comprehensive guide to understanding the critical importance of HVAC maintenance. It's not merely about prolonging the lifespan of your system; it's about enhancing your comfort, increasing energy efficiency, and ultimately saving you money. We'll walk you through an maintenance checklist tailored for every season, ensuring your system runs optimally year-round. So, let's embark on this journey to discover the secrets of a well-maintained HVAC system, offering you comfort and peace of mind season after season. Spring Maintenance When the flowers bloom and the air starts to warm, it's time to show your HVAC system some love. Spring HVAC maintenance is all about ensuring your system is ready to keep you cool during the scorching months ahead. Here's your checklist: - Cleaning or Replacing Air Filters: The air filters in your HVAC system play a crucial role in maintaining indoor air quality and system efficiency. Over time, these filters can become clogged with dust, allergens, and pollutants, making your system work harder to circulate clean air. To kickstart your spring maintenance routine, start by inspecting your air filters. If they're dirty or clogged, it's time for a replacement. Clean filters not only ensure better air quality but also help your system operate efficiently. - Checking and Cleaning Air Ducts: Your air ducts are the arteries of your HVAC system, carrying conditioned air throughout your home. Over the winter, dust and debris can accumulate in the ducts, reducing airflow and potentially contaminating the air. Spring is an excellent time to check and clean your air ducts. You can either hire a professional for a thorough cleaning or simply remove vent covers and use a vacuum with a long hose to clear out visible debris. Clean ducts mean better airflow and healthier indoor air. - Inspecting and Cleaning Outdoor Units: Your outdoor HVAC unit, typically the air conditioner, may have endured a harsh winter. Spring maintenance involves inspecting the outdoor unit. Look for any visible damage, such as bent fins or debris buildup. Clear away leaves, branches, or any obstructions around the unit. Trim vegetation and shrubs to ensure proper airflow. A clean and damage-free outdoor unit ensures efficient cooling during the summer months. - Testing Thermostat and Calibration: The thermostat is the command center for your HVAC system. In the spring, it's vital to test your thermostat. Make sure it accurately reads and displays the temperature. If you have a programmable thermostat, review and update your temperature schedules to match the changing seasons. Calibration is essential; ensure that the thermostat settings align with your comfort preferences. Proper calibration prevents your HVAC system from overworking, contributing to energy efficiency and cost savings. With these spring maintenance tasks completed, your HVAC system will be ready to keep you cool and comfortable as the temperatures rise. But our maintenance journey doesn't end here. Be sure to stay tuned for the next season in our maintenance series. Summer Maintenance As the sun blazes overhead and temperatures soar, your HVAC system transitions into cooling mode to provide you with a welcome escape from the heat. To ensure it operates at peak efficiency during the sweltering summer months, you'll want to perform the following essential maintenance tasks: - Inspecting Refrigerant Levels: Refrigerant is the lifeblood of your air conditioning system, as it facilitates the cooling process. Insufficient or excessive refrigerant levels can lead to a drop in cooling efficiency and potential damage to the compressor. It's crucial to inspect the refrigerant levels to ensure they are within the manufacturer's recommended range. If you suspect a refrigerant leak, it's best to consult a professional HVAC technician to address the issue promptly. - Cleaning Evaporator and Condenser Coils: Your air conditioner's efficiency heavily depends on the cleanliness of its evaporator and condenser coils. Over time, these coils accumulate dirt, dust, and debris, hindering heat exchange. Cleaning them is essential to maintain optimal cooling. Using a soft brush or a fin comb, gently remove dirt and debris from the coils. Ensure the power to the system is turned off before you start the cleaning process. Clean coils ensure efficient heat transfer and improved cooling performance. - Clearing Drainage Lines: Air conditioners produce condensate as they dehumidify the air. This moisture collects in the drainage pan and is removed through drainage lines. Over time, these lines can become clogged with algae, mold, or debris, causing water to back up into your system or even your home. Inspect and clear drainage lines to prevent blockages and potential water damage. A simple mixture of bleach and water can help keep the lines clear of organic growth. - Lubricating Moving Parts: Your HVAC system consists of several moving parts, including the fan motors and bearings. Proper lubrication is crucial to prevent friction and wear, ensuring your system runs smoothly and efficiently. Lubricate the moving parts according to the manufacturer's recommendations. Remember, over-lubrication can be as harmful as under-lubrication, so be sure to follow guidelines carefully. Fall Maintenance As the leaves change colors and the air begins to crisp, it's time to prepare your HVAC system for the upcoming heating season. Fall maintenance ensures your system is ready to keep you warm and cozy throughout the cooler months. Here are the critical tasks to focus on during this season: - Cleaning or Replacing Air Filters (again): Just as in the spring, it's time to inspect and either clean or replace the air filters. Clean filters promote better air quality and efficient heating. - Checking for Leaks in Ductwork: Inspect your ductwork for any visible issues or leaks. Seal any leaks or gaps to ensure the warm air reaches every corner of your living space. - Testing Safety Controls: Test your system's safety controls, including the limit switch and ignition system, to ensure they are functioning correctly. - Scheduling a Professional Inspection: Consider scheduling a professional HVAC inspection in the fall. An experienced technician can perform a comprehensive check of your system, addressing any potential issues before they become significant problems. Winter Maintenance - Inspecting and Cleaning Furnace Components: Check the heat exchanger, burners, and blower motor for signs of wear or damage. Clean or replace air filters again. - Testing Ignition System: Ensure the ignition system is starting the furnace correctly. Address any ignition issues promptly to maintain safe and efficient operation. - Checking Carbon Monoxide Detectors: Verify that carbon monoxide detectors have fresh batteries and are in working order. Test them to ensure they detect any dangerous levels of this gas. - Programming Thermostat for Efficiency: Adjust your thermostat settings for winter. If you have a programmable or smart thermostat, program it to lower the temperature when you're away or asleep and raise it when you're home and awake. This simple adjustment can lead to significant energy savings while keeping your home warm. DIY vs. Professional Maintenance When it comes to HVAC maintenance, there's a balance between tasks that homeowners can handle themselves and those that require professional expertise. Understanding this distinction is essential for the long-term health of your HVAC system. Homeowners play a significant role in maintaining their HVAC systems. There are several maintenance tasks that can be DIY projects. Changing or cleaning air filters, inspecting and cleaning vents, and basic thermostat programming are all within the reach of most homeowners. These tasks help ensure optimal system performance and air quality. While homeowners can handle many maintenance tasks, some issues are best left to HVAC professionals. If you encounter problems like faulty electrical components, gas leaks, refrigerant leaks, or complex system malfunctions, it's crucial to call a professional. Attempting to address these issues without the necessary expertise can be dangerous and may worsen the problem. Regular professional inspections are a cornerstone of maintenance. Even if your system seems to be working correctly, a professional technician can detect subtle issues that may not be apparent to homeowners. These inspections are essential for safety, efficiency, and the long-term performance of your HVAC system. Don't underestimate the value of professional expertise. Ready to Ensure Your HVAC System's Peak Performance? Don't wait until the next season catches you off guard. Contact us today to schedule your seasonal HVAC maintenance. We are here to keep your system running efficiently and your home comfortable. Enjoy worry-free seasons with our professional maintenance services at Optimized Air. Reach out to us now and experience the difference of a well-maintained HVAC system! Read the full article

[sodelusionchild]

Manipulating Azalea Flowering: A Guide to Promote Blooming

Azaleas, those vibrant flowering shrubs that captivate our gardens, hold a secret to their stunning blooms. Have you ever wondered how these beauties come alive with such splendor? Understanding the mechanisms behind azalea flower blooming is not only fascinating but also essential for gardeners seeking to optimize their growth and care. These stunning plants are influenced by a multitude of factors that determine when and how they bloom. It's like a complex dance between nature and nurture. From temperature fluctuations to soil conditions, these variables play a crucial role in orchestrating the grand spectacle of azalea blossoms. By unraveling the mysteries of azalea flower blooming mechanisms, we can unlock the secrets to nurturing these remarkable plants with finesse. So let's delve into this captivating world where science meets beauty, where gardeners and nature collaborate to create breathtaking displays of color and fragrance. Intrigued? Let's embark on this journey together as we explore the intricate workings behind azalea flower blooming mechanisms. Get ready to uncover the hidden gems that will empower you in becoming an expert in cultivating these enchanting shrubs.

Factors that Promote Flowering in Azaleas:

Adequate Sunlight Exposure Azaleas are sun-loving flowers, and adequate sunlight exposure is crucial for their blooming. These vibrant beauties thrive when they receive at least six hours of direct sunlight each day. So, make sure you plant them in a spot where they can soak up the sun's rays without any obstructions. If you have tall trees or buildings casting shadows over your azalea plants, it might be time to consider relocating them to a sunnier spot. Remember, these gorgeous flowers need their daily dose of sunshine to produce those stunning blooms. Proper Soil pH Another essential factor for azalea flower blooming mechanisms is the soil pH. Azaleas prefer acidic soil conditions with a pH range between 4.5 and 6.0. This slightly acidic environment provides optimal conditions for their growth and flowering. To maintain the right soil acidity, you can use organic matter like pine needles or peat moss as mulch around the base of your azalea plants. These materials gradually decompose, releasing organic acids that help create an ideal pH level for your azaleas. Regular soil testing is recommended to ensure that the pH remains within the desired range. If necessary, you can adjust the acidity by adding sulfur or other suitable amendments available at garden centers. Pruning at the Right Time Pruning plays a vital role in promoting new growth and encouraging more flowers in azaleas. Timing is crucial. The best time to prune your azaleas is immediately after they finish blooming in spring or early summer. By removing spent blooms and shaping the plant during this period, you allow ample time for new buds to develop before winter arrives. When pruning your azaleas, remember to use sharp and clean tools to avoid damaging the branches or spreading diseases. Start by removing dead or damaged branches, then thin out crowded areas to improve air circulation and light penetration. By following these pruning practices, you'll stimulate fresh growth and ensure a bountiful display of flowers in the next blooming season.

Understanding the Bloom Times of Azaleas:

Different azalea varieties have specific bloom times throughout the year. Azaleas are known for their stunning blooms, but did you know that different varieties of azaleas have specific bloom times? These beautiful flowers come in a wide range of colors and shapes, and each variety has its unique schedule for blooming. Some azaleas may burst into full bloom in early spring, while others may wait until late summer or even fall to show off their vibrant petals. If you're planning to add azaleas to your garden, it's important to consider the bloom times of different varieties. By selecting azaleas with staggered blooming schedules, you can ensure that your garden remains colorful and vibrant throughout the year. Imagine having a constant display of beautiful blooms from one variety to another! Bloom times can vary based on climate and geographical location. While certain azalea varieties may generally follow a specific blooming schedule, it's essential to keep in mind that bloom times can also be influenced by climate and geographical location. Azaleas thrive in different climates around the world, from temperate regions to more tropical areas. The timing of when they bloom can be affected by factors such as temperature fluctuations and daylight hours. For example, if you live in a region with milder winters, your azaleas might start blooming earlier than those in colder climates where winter lingers longer. Similarly, if you reside closer to the equator where there is less seasonal variation, your azaleas might have a more extended blooming period compared to areas with distinct seasons. Knowing the bloom times helps plan garden displays and coordinate with other plants. Understanding the bloom times of azaleas is not just about appreciating their beauty; it also allows you to plan your garden displays effectively. By strategically selecting different varieties with staggered bloom times, you can create a visually stunning garden that showcases a continuous parade of azalea blooms. Here are some ideas to help you make the most of your azaleas' bloom times: - Plant early-blooming varieties near late-blooming ones to create a seamless transition of colors throughout the season. - Combine azaleas with other flowering plants that have complementary bloom times, such as tulips or daffodils in spring or mums in fall. - Consider incorporating evergreen azalea varieties that provide year-round foliage and occasional blooms. By coordinating the bloom times of your azaleas with other plants in your garden, you can create a harmonious and visually appealing landscape that will impress both yourself and your guests.

Exploring Azalea Flowering Groups:

Categorizing Azaleas for Blooming Bliss Azaleas are a diverse group of flowering plants that bring vibrant colors and beauty to gardens and landscapes. To fully appreciate the blooming potential of these stunning flowers, it's essential to understand the different flowering groups they belong to. These groups categorize azaleas based on their blooming characteristics, including timing, color, and duration of blooms. By exploring these distinctive groups, you can select complementary varieties that will ensure a continuous display of azalea beauty in your garden. Group 1: Early Bloomers The first group of azaleas to grace us with their presence are the early bloomers. As their name suggests, these azaleas burst into color earlier in the season compared to other groups. Their captivating flowers emerge as winter fades away, signaling the arrival of spring. With hues ranging from delicate pinks to pristine whites, they create a picturesque scene against a backdrop of awakening nature. Examples: - Pink Delight - Snow White Beauty - Blushing Rose Group 2: Midseason Marvels Once the early bloomers have had their moment in the spotlight, it's time for the midseason marvels to take center stage. These azaleas offer an explosion of colors that can transform any garden into a vibrant paradise. From deep reds and purples to dazzling oranges and yellows, their blossoms captivate with their intensity and variety. This group ensures your garden remains awash with mesmerizing hues throughout spring. Examples: - Ruby Red Gem - Golden Sunshine - Purple Majesty Group 3: Late-Blooming Beauties Just when you think the show is over, the late-blooming beauties make their grand entrance. These azaleas extend the blooming season well into summer when most other varieties have finished. Their flowers, often in shades of mauve and lavender, bring a touch of elegance to the garden during the warmest months. These azaleas are resilient and provide a much-needed burst of color when other plants may be fading. Examples: - Lavender Dream - Mauve Magic - Late Summer Delight Group 4: Repeat Performers If you desire azaleas that bloom not just once but multiple times throughout the year, look no further than the repeat performers. These versatile azaleas have mastered the art of reblooming, ensuring your garden remains adorned with their enchanting flowers for an extended period. With colors ranging from soft pastels to vibrant reds, these azaleas offer continuous beauty and delight. Examples: - Everblooming Pink - Scarlet Surprise - Pastel Perfection Understanding the different flowering groups allows you to curate a diverse collection of azaleas that will keep your garden in bloom from early spring through late summer. Whether you prefer delicate pinks or bold reds, there's an azalea variety for every taste and preference.

Late Season Hybrids and Knap Hill Hybrids

Late-season hybrids and Knap Hill hybrids are two types of azaleas that bring a stunning finale to the blooming season. These hybrids offer spectacular blooms towards the end of spring or early summer, making them a delightful addition to any garden. Let's explore these hybrids in more detail. Late Season Hybrids Late-season hybrids are known for their ability to produce breathtaking blooms when other azaleas have finished flowering. These hybrids extend the blooming period, ensuring your garden remains vibrant and colorful well into the summer months. With their unique genetics, late-season hybrids offer a beautiful contrast to the earlier bloomers. One notable characteristic of late-season hybrids is their wide range of colors. From vibrant pinks and purples to soft pastels and even bi-colored varieties, these azaleas provide a diverse palette for your garden. Their blooms can be large and showy or delicate and intricate, depending on the specific hybrid. Knap Hill Hybrids Knap Hill hybrids are renowned for their exceptional beauty and robustness. Developed by Lionel de Rothschild at his estate in England, these azalea hybrids have become popular worldwide due to their impressive flowers and hardiness. The standout feature of Knap Hill hybrids is undoubtedly their large, showy flowers. These blossoms can measure up to four inches across, creating a striking visual impact on any landscape. The wide range of colors available includes shades of pink, red, orange, yellow, and white. Whether you prefer bold and vibrant hues or softer pastel tones, there is a Knap Hill hybrid to suit every taste. In addition to their stunning flowers, Knap Hill hybrids also offer compact evergreen foliage that adds year-round interest to your garden. This means you can enjoy their beauty even when they are not in bloom.

Early Season Species and Cultivars:

If you're looking to add a burst of color to your garden early in the season, planting early-season species and cultivars is the way to go. These plants bloom in late winter or early spring, often before other plants have even started waking up from their winter slumber. Not only do they bring vibrant colors to your outdoor space, but certain cultivars within this group also showcase unique flower forms or intense fragrances. Let's dive into why you should consider these beauties for your garden. Blooming Ahead of Schedule Early-season species are like the overachievers of the plant kingdom. While others are still snoozing away in dormancy, these plants are already putting on a show with their stunning blooms. By choosing deciduous species that bloom early in spring, you'll be treated to a magnificent display that signals the arrival of warmer days. A Symphony of Fragrance and Form One of the highlights of early-season species and cultivars is their ability to captivate not just with their colors but also with their scents and flower forms. Some varieties boast an intense fragrance that will fill your garden with delightful aromas. Imagine stepping outside on a crisp spring morning and being greeted by the sweet scent wafting through the air. Moreover, certain cultivars within this group exhibit unique flower forms that add an extra touch of elegance to your garden. From ruffled petals to intricate patterns, these blooms are sure to catch everyone's attention. An Early Burst of Color By incorporating early-season species into your garden, you ensure a vibrant start to the growing season. As other plants slowly begin awakening from dormancy, your outdoor space will already be adorned with pops of color from these beautiful flowers. It's like having front-row seats to nature's grand opening act! To make the most out of this colorful spectacle, consider companion planting with other early bloomers such as cherry trees, crab apples, or other American species. By strategically selecting a variety of plants that bloom at different times within the early season, you can create a continuous display of color from late winter to late spring. Selection and Care Tips When choosing early-season species and cultivars for your garden, keep in mind the specific climate and conditions in your area. Some plants may be more suited to colder regions, while others thrive in milder climates. Consult with local horticulture experts or visit nearby nurseries to get recommendations on the best options for your region. To ensure optimal blooming, proper care is essential. Here are some tips to help you nurture your early-season beauties: - Prune during late summer or early autumn: This encourages healthy growth and helps shape the plant. - Protect flower buds during winter: Covering them with mulch can shield them from harsh winter temperatures. - Provide adequate watering: While these plants are hardy once established, they still need regular watering during the summer months. - Monitor foliage health: Keep an eye out for any signs of disease or pests and take appropriate action if needed.

Midseason Cultivars and Species:

Abundant Blooms in Mid-Spring to Early Summer Midseason cultivars of azalea plants are a fantastic choice for gardeners who want to enjoy an explosion of blooms during the mid-spring to early summer months. These cultivars have been specifically bred to produce an abundance of flowers, ensuring your garden is filled with vibrant colors and captivating fragrances. There are a wide variety of options available. Whether you prefer compact shrubs or larger plants, there is a midseason azalea cultivar that will suit your preferences perfectly. Some popular midseason cultivars include: - Coral Bells: This stunning deciduous shrub produces clusters of coral-colored blossoms, adding a vibrant splash of color to any garden. - George Tabor: Known for its beautiful lavender-pink flowers, this midseason azalea is highly prized for its ability to thrive in both sun and shade. - Girard's Pleasant White: If you're looking for a classic white bloomer, this cultivar is an excellent choice. Its pure white flowers create an elegant and timeless look in any garden. Exceptional Cold Hardiness In addition to their abundant blooms, many midseason azalea species are known for their exceptional cold hardiness. This means that they can withstand colder temperatures without suffering damage or losing their flower buds. One particularly cold-hardy midseason species is the Northern Lights Series. These azaleas were developed specifically for regions with harsh winters, making them perfect for gardens in northern climates. The series includes a range of colors and shades, allowing you to choose the perfect variety to complement your outdoor space. By selecting midseason azaleas with outstanding cold hardiness, you can ensure that your garden remains full of life even when temperatures drop. These resilient plants will continue to thrive, providing a stunning display of blooms year after year. Prolonged Blooming Period Choosing midseason azaleas for your garden not only guarantees an abundance of blooms but also ensures a prolonged blooming period. Unlike early-season cultivars that may have a shorter flowering window, mid-season varieties offer an extended show of color and fragrance. With the right selection of midseason cultivars, you can enjoy azalea blossoms for several weeks or even months. This extended blooming period adds depth and interest to your garden, creating a captivating landscape that evolves. To maximize the blooming period of your midseason azaleas, it's important to provide them with proper care. Ensure they receive adequate sunlight, water them regularly, and apply a layer of mulch around the base of the plants to help retain moisture. By following these simple steps, you can prolong the beauty and vibrancy of your midseason azaleas throughout their flowering season.

Conclusion

Now that you have explored the various aspects of azalea flower blooming mechanisms, you are equipped with valuable knowledge to enhance your understanding. By considering factors that promote flowering in azaleas, understanding bloom times, and exploring different flowering groups such as late-season hybrids, Knap Hill hybrids, early-season species, midseason cultivars, and more, you can make informed decisions. To further expand your expertise on azalea flower blooming mechanisms, continue to explore resources that delve deeper into this subject matter. By staying updated with the latest research and insights from experts in the field, you can stay ahead of the curve. Remember to share your newfound knowledge with fellow gardening enthusiasts or even consider joining local gardening communities where you can exchange tips and experiences. By engaging in discussions and sharing success stories about azalea flower blooming mechanisms, you contribute to a vibrant community of passionate gardeners. So go ahead and put your knowledge into action! Experiment with different techniques based on what you've learned about promoting flowering in azaleas. Observe how bloom times vary among different types of azaleas and use this information to plan beautiful displays in your garden throughout the year. With dedication and a little bit of trial and error, you'll be rewarded with stunning blooms that will bring joy to both yourself and those who admire your garden. Happy gardening! FAQs Q: How often should I water my azaleas? Azaleas prefer moist soil but do not tolerate excessive waterlogging. Read the full article

[twstdreams]

Nightmares

Reposting this because tumblr is having lots of fun not putting my posts in the tags🥀

Request: Nightmare request! Literally! How would Jamil, Leona, Floyd, Azul, and Riddle react to having a nightmare where their love was brutally killed in front of them only to wake up and see them sleeping (or awake) beside them? You can format it however you like 🎃 Happy Halloween Thank you

Warning: death, blood, violence, broken bones, hanahaki, suffocation, drowning, bruises, poison

Jamil Viper

The nightmare is horridly vivid. You lay in front of him, poisoned and slowly bleeding to death from some unknown stab wound, and he’s chained and unable to do anything but watch as the life leaves your eyes

Such vicious words escape your mouth, pleas to save your life, painful accusations, and eventually just groans of pain

The background is out of focus but the moonlight illuminates your face contorted in pain, the sickly colour of your skin

He awakes slightly disoriented, the moon still gently glowing on your visage but instead of hair caked with blood and glistening tears, you sleep peacefully. Your hair is a little mused and there may or may not be a spot of drool, but no harms as befell you

Jamil knows this is real. When his nails bite into his palm, the pain keeps him grounded. The details of the room are crisp. He goes over a mental checklist one by one to prove to himself he is no longer trapped in a nightmare

Jamil gently grabs your wrist with fingers hovering over your pulse to feel your blood flowing. He has to press a little into your wrist, you’re so deep in your sleep that your heart rate has slowed down, unlike his own that continues to be erratic until he finally feels your pulse that assures him you’re alive

It feels like hours pass like this, Jamil attentively watching you dream, until he falls asleep to feeling of your constant pulse as he clutches your wrist

Leona Kingscholar

Farena turns you to sand. Leona doesn’t know how it’s possible. That’s his unique magic, not Farena’s. But like everything precious in his life, it is handed to Farena and his bloodline, not Leona

And you, someone who is finally his and his alone, no strings attached or specific clauses to keep you in his grasp are too taken away

Leona can see it. The horror that paints your face. The panicked shrieking as you try to defy fate but crumble to pieces anyway. He swears he can feel the grains of sand that used to make up his lover

Now he has nothing. Not king of his land or your heart. An anguished roar erupts from his throat until it hurts, but never as much as the loss of you

His eyes snaps open and he intakes a sharp breath of air, trying to adjust to his new surroundings.

Instead of sand whipping in every direction, he inhales clean air. Instead of your screams permeating the air, at most he hears some bugs chirping. Instead of clumps of sand, you lay beside him underneath crumpled blankets

Without thought, Leona pulls you into his arms. Your solid form reassures him that you are real and alive. He snuggles you into his chest and keeps you close, caging you in his embrace with strong arms that may or not have quivered slightly when he first made sure you were okay

He feels your body, its warmth, the way your chest raises and falls as your breathe, little puffs of air, all these little signs let him know you’re well

Floyd Leech

Open fractures, moulted bruises, bleeding cuts, there are so many injuries Floyd doesn’t even know how to start. Every injury he’s ever inflicted appears on your body and when those cease, even more begin to harm your battered body.

The perpetrator is a frustrating shadow that Floyd can never get a grip on

He gives up chasing the culprit and cradles your body in his arms, ready to run or swim any distance to get you the medical treatment you need, when he notices your lack of response

No matter how many times Floyd calls out, the light squeeze of your arm, nothing gets you to open your eyes. How could you? The dead don’t move

Without hesitation, the second Floyd has his bearings, he is squeezing you so tight. With your body so tightly pressed against his, he can confirm that your body is safe and not oozing blood. All your bones feel solid when he pulls you so close to him it feels like he’s trying to smush the two of you together

There’s no way you don’t wake up from either being jostled, crushed, or perhaps even slight suffocation. Even your legs are tangled with his at this point

“Give me a hug back~” he whines and at this rate you decide to comply and ask questions letter

Soft mutterings pass through your lips and the occasional reassurance as you try to remove the fog in your sleepy brain

Floyd wants to feel you alive next to him and the pressure of a hug that you return, like how only the living can

If you placate him with a flurry of kisses, you might just get to fall asleep with some breathing room

Azul Ashengrotto

You’re drowning in the ocean. Azul can see your limbs flailing about as you feebly try to climb upwards but you’re leagues below the surface and you’ll never make it in time

He hurls spell after spell your way but none of them reach you. He swims frantically but it’s never fast enough. He watches the stream of bubbles escaping your mouth and nose continue to decrease in size until there is nothing left.

Your limbs still. Your expression is dull. Your body feels cold by the time he cradles your corpse in his tentacles.

When Azul awakes, it’s with a sharp gasp as he searches the room for you. Immediately he wraps all his limbs around your form

You’re jolted from your sleep to the feeling of Azul clutching on a little too tightly

Squeeze him back, remind him that you’re alive and well, whisper sweet words to lull him back to the present

Azul knows you’re okay. The warmth that radiates from your body, your soft sentences that wash over him like gentle waves, the sleepy smile you give him, but somewhere in the back of his head a little voice whispers that it’s all an illusion

A soft kiss on the lips lets him know that you’re real

Riddle Rosehearts

You’re gasping for air, eyes wide, wheezing but holding onto him so painfully tight. Roses bloom and their thorns pierce your throat.

He can see the bud begin to blossom in your mouth, obstructing your airway. Riddle casts spell after spell, trying to reduce the thorns, perhaps wilting the flower but nothing stops its growth

Your chocked breaths cease and you go limp in his arms. As you eyes finally close, you turn into petals and disappear

Riddle awakes, frazzled and worried. He counts to ten to try and calm his mind.

He checks you’re alive, needing proof to assure that horrid dream is all but gone. Riddle feels the pulse in your neck, checks there are no injuries, hovers right above your face to hear your breath. He’s not even gentle, too consumed with anxiety and looming fears

It stirs you awake. You’re not sure what’s happening but his distressed expression prompts you to give him a hug

“You dying on me is against the rules,” Riddle murmurs while falling into your embrace

“I’d never abandon you like that,” you promise  and place his hand over your heart to prove you’re alive

You place soft kisses on his forehead and drift off to sleep as he focuses on the sound of your heartbeat.

[joheun-saram]

January Rain (jjk)

word count- 1.5k

pairing- ceo!Jungkook x secretary!Reader

rating- PG

genre- angst, fluff

warnings- none! :)

an- for the cute 🍒anon! I hope you like it!

-

You looked at the email your boss’s mother had sent you and felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew what you had with Jungkook was too good to last. It was a cliche really, the secretary sleeping with the CEO, but every time he looked at you, it was like you forgot your own name. The way his big doe eyes traced your features right before he devoured you, or the way he called you in his office for some paperwork, when really he just wanted to kiss you silly.

I'm not sure if Jungkook mentioned this to you yet, but can you please check when he is available for his date with Jisoo. Any time from Wed to Fri would work.

As you reread the email asking you to set a time for a date with his fiancee, you knew starting something with the handsome man across from you was a mistake. You would never be able to call him yours, never be able to hold his hand in public, and the thought made your eyes sting. Looking through his calendar, you did your job, quietly resolving to no longer fall for his charms. There was a reason he made the number of deals that he did, he was great at getting his way, but that would no longer be the case with you.

It was when you added the event in his calendar that he called your name. He was settled behind a large desk, the dark oak a contrast to the light cedar of the cabin. He had rented the chalet for the weekend, wanting a getaway to work on the new expansion proposal for the board. It was an added bonus that the large cottage came with a room with a king-sized bed and a hot tub on the back patio. Initially, you were looking forward to spending the weekend tangled up in the sheets with your boss, but the sound of your name on his lips just irritated you now.

He called you twice before you graced him with a glance in his direction.

"Why did you send me this?" He asked, eyes narrowed in your direction and jaw set. He seemed annoyed. Good.

"Your mother emailed me. I'm just doing my job," you replied with a huff, rolling your eyes at his demeanor as he sighed.

"Come here, baby." Jungkook spoke softly as he rolled his chair away from his desk, tapping his lap in an invitation. An invitation you would've jumped at a mere twenty minutes ago, but now it just caused frustration and hurt to bloom in your chest.

"I'm sorry. I think that would be unprofessional, sir." You remained straight-faced, averting your eyes towards your laptop as you continued to work through his emails and schedule for the week. He scoffed, turning to his true-tried method of humour to lighten the mood.

“Come on. I dare you.” He smirked, moving around his desk to lean against it, arms open, expecting you to grumble but make your way to him as usual. But you avoided looking at him, your full attention on your work, as you tried to pretend he wasn’t even in the room. In the attempt to shield your feelings, you missed the look of hurt that clouded his features as he lost his earlier confidence and fidgeted with the many documents strewn across his desk.

"Baby, look at me. Please?" Jungkook pleaded, the pout on his face evident through his voice. You couldn't look at him even if you tried, you knew the effect he had on you. It was the same adorable pout that had made you give him your heart the first time he aimed it at you. It was your kryptonite. The way he would be extremely polite and professional to all your colleagues but turn into a puppy whenever the two of you were alone. It was something that made you want him more, deluded you into thinking that he was only this open in front of you. But clearly, his change in character wasn't as special as you thought.

Ignoring his request, you swiftly stood from your seat on the couch, walking firmly to the main door into the cold rain outside. The freezing raindrops pelted your skin, making goosebumps rise in their wake as your teeth chattered. Although you had forgotten your coat in your haste to remove yourself from the situation, you didn't regret it one bit. You welcomed the chill, letting it cool you to the bone as you walked away from the fancy chalet. You didn't care that you would inevitably have to go inside in a few minutes and that you would also probably get a headache from the way the almost frozen droplets pelted your head.

Before you could walk too long though, you felt a pair of strong arms encircle you, the warmth of a firm chest molding to your back like a comfortable blanket.

"You're going to get sick," Jungkook murmured in your ear, his grip tight around your waist, as you tried not to give into him yet again.

"Stop worrying about me. You have Jisoo." You tried to push him off you, but his strength outmatched you by miles as he clung to your back, the two of you drenched and shivering.

"I don't want Jisoo. I want you." He whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. His words sent the butterflies in your belly a flutter, but your brain refused to let them win. You shoved him off you, turning around to stare at him. 

His hair was in his eyes, the black curls obstructing his eyes, as he shook his head to see you clearer. He was drenched, his white shirt almost invisible, highlighting the contours of his body. He moved closer, rubbing his hands on your arms in an attempt to warm you up, but despite the way he looked at you softly, you shrugged him off once again.

"So what? You're gonna break off your engagement and run away with me?" you questioned, arms folded as your gaze hardened.

"Absolutely." There was no hint of hesitation in his eyes, and his determination broke down your defenses. Before you knew it you were staring at the ground, willing the tears to go away. You were never more thankful to have the rain soaking you through.

"Don't do this to me. I can't take this anymore," you spoke quietly, unsure if he could even hear you.

"Do what? I told you I don't want her. I want you." Jungkook held your arms, bending a little to make the eye contact you were so adamant in avoiding.

"But your mom -" Jungkook scoffed, cutting you off. His hands cupped your face as he tried to pour as much of his feelings through his gaze as he could, his warm chocolate eyes entrancing you like they always did. 

"Do you think I care? I did my part, took over the company like a good little boy. I'm not going to let her control me anymore." His gaze hardened as he spoke and it reminded you of your resolve. Even though he was determined right now, you knew Jungkook. Knew that he would always pick his mom over anyone else, knew that he would never want to disappoint her. And above all, you knew that she would never accept you. 

"Jungkook, I think it's best if we end this." And although your words spoke differently, you moved closer to him, your hands over his arms as you held on like he would let go. 

"No. How can it be best if I can't be with the woman I love?" His forehead met yours as he confessed and your heart felt like it could explode. In the year you had been part of this fling, he had never told you he loved you. Jungkook wasn’t one for words, he would instead buy you extravagant gifts and take you travelling. You had always hoped he felt what you did but you never thought you’d hear those words escape his lips.

"Love?" you asked in a daze, your resolve falling like crumbs to the wayside. Jungkook smiled at your confusion as if it was the most endearing thing in the world. His nose scrunched a little as it grazed yours and he giggled.

"I love you." 

You couldn’t stop yourself from crashing your lips to his. How could you, when the man you had been in love with for years finally spoke like he had in your dreams. His kiss warmed you up, making you forget about the rain still pelting from above and the chill in your bones. His arms encircled your waist once again, pulling you close, chest to chest, as yours found home around his neck. Kissing him was so easy, it was like your body was finally at peace in his arms.

"Tell me you love me too. Please?" He pleaded when you finally broke for air and the uncertainty in his voice made you want to do anything in your power to assure him.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You kissed him with every confession, your heart finally being allowed to pour through your actions. 

You didn’t remember how long the two of you stood kissing in the cold January rain, but it was worth the stuffy noses and headaches that plagued you both for a week afterward. 

-

Like this? Check out my other works.

[ceratonia-siliqua]

Sweeter Than Sugar (Ch 3)

Collab fic with @send-me-your-hcs

Summary: Tony is a man of refinement. Only the best, the highest quality specimens get added to his collection. Peter, a beautiful and very rare male omega, quickly becomes his favorite of all his pets. The perfect omega deserves an equally-perfect alpha. (Or: An a/b/o au where pet owner!Tony forcibly mates Peter and Bucky together for his own enjoyment.)

Warnings: Underage, noncon, a/b/o au, dark!Tony, confinement, forced pet play dynamics, forced mating/in heat cycles, minor violence, forced daddy kink, forced feminization, gang r/ape, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

ao3 link

.   .   .

Bucky knows something is going down the moment he enters his kennel, Tony can tell.

He hasn’t had to use the reinforced steel stockade in years, not since Bucky was still new to him. Bucky is anxious and wary as Tony secures him tightly on his knees, his neck and wrists bound, rendering him immobile. “Don’t worry, my love,” he reassures gently. “Your omega’s been a naughty little boy, but once his punishment is over, we can all move on. You know Daddy’s very forgiving. I’ll forgive Peter too, just as soon as he asks for it.”

Bucky’s beautiful steel-blue eyes fixate on the bruise marring Tony’s cheek. He gently runs his fingers through the alpha’s long, silky hair as he pops the mouth guard gag past Bucky’s lips, keeping his sharp canines safely tucked away from their guests and his frightening, bone-chilling growls as stifled as possible.

With Bucky properly restrained, Tony heads back upstairs and enters Peter’s cell for the first time since the incident this morning. Peter looks at him long enough to see he’s come alone, then turns back to his filthy blankets, snubbing him. Tony almost smirks to himself as he walks over, head held high, and stops in front of the large round bed.

“Do you want to see your alpha, baby?” he asks. The sound of his voice shouldn’t startle Peter, but somehow it does.

Peter doesn’t look at him. His face is pressed to one of his messy pillows, but he nods, dejectedly.

“Very well,” Tony says. He snaps his fingers and points to his feet, his universal sign of come here. “The sooner you get over here, the sooner you’ll get to see him.”

The boy reminds him of a sullen, sulky child as he drags his limp body to the edge of the bed and onto the floor. He keeps his head down, a dog who knows he’s displeased his master, and waits for Tony to grab him by his leash, deceivingly meek and obedient.

“Turn around, baby. Show me that pretty little hole before it gets ruined again.”

A scarlet blush covers Peter’s face, neck and chest as he obeys, turning and pressing his forehead to the floor, ass up and trembling. His ass has finally returned to a more natural state, baby pink instead of deep red, tight and modestly damp instead of gaping open and pouring come and slick. It’s a bit of an illusion, though - when Tony presses his thumb against the puckered skin, it gives immediately, stretching smooth and straight and opening up for him in that beautiful way only omega holes can. It’s like pressing a button to switch between an asshole and a cunt; untouched, it’s a hole no different from anyone else’s, but as soon as the slightest stimulation comes along, it blooms like a flower in the sun, opens up hungrily and greedily, transforming before his very eyes.

Entranced, Tony fingers the boy’s delectable little pussy as he slips another, albeit weaker heat inducer inside of him. Peter won’t need any detailed stretching or preparation - not this time around - so he plays with the little omega’s broken-in fuckhole purely for indulgence’s sake. By the time Peter’s rim is turning dark red, puffy and starting to leak, the pill has taken effect and the poor thing is whining uncontrollably into the marble floor.

Tony’s tempted to make him crawl all the way downstairs, sobbing and shaking and leaking like a broken faucet, but he’d never risk skinning his princess’s poor sensitive knees. He unhooks Peter’s chain from the wall, gathers his small, trembling body in his arms, and carries him all the way to Bucky’s cell like the compassionate, generous owner that he is.

It’s a chorus of joy and suffering the moment they step inside. A gorgeous melody of pleading cries, muffled shouts, moans, groans, whimpers, whines. Peter flails trying to get to his alpha - Bucky does his damned best to wrench the stockade from its base inlaid in the concrete slab, but it holds firm. Peter is absolutely adorable as he reaches for Bucky with both hands, crying out, “Alpha, alpha…!” Like if he calls urgently enough, Bucky will shatter his restraints and come to him.

His little pets are so fucking cute.

But now is not the time to indulge them. A lesson needs to be learned here, first and foremost. Emotionlessly, Tony chains Peter to the opposite wall, shortening the leash so the feisty little omega can’t quite reach his alpha at the other end of the long room. While the two scramble trying to get to each other, Tony rolls in one of his breeding benches, parks and secures it in the center of the room, and hoists Peter’s flailing body onto it.

Oh, the little omega puts up quite a struggle then. Tony presses Peter’s body over the arch in the bench, his stomach flat on the plush leather, arms folded behind his back, legs spread, ass up to expose his leaking pussy. Bucky gets the best view in the house - restrained on his knees with Peter’s gorgeous fuckhole staring him in the face. If Tony rolled the bench closer and removed the gag, Bucky would be at the perfect height to eat the little pup out.

The thought intrigues him. Maybe after, he thinks.

He tests each cuff on Peter’s neck, thighs, wrists and ankles to ensure he’s secured, then gives the bench a hard shove to make sure the wheels are locked, properly holding the contraption still so it won’t slide everywhere in the middle of the action.

With everything ready, he supposes this is the perfect time to lecture his ornery little omega, circling Peter’s bound body as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“Peter,” he says firmly, earning himself a fearful, hateful glare from those big brown eyes. “I know you’re smart enough to understand the concept of corrective discipline. I’m about to teach you a very important lesson - everything you have, everything you have been given, including your bond with your new mate and all of the pleasure it’s brought you - they are all gifts from me.”

He steps closer, stares down at that beautiful, angry little face.

“You may not like it, you can hate this place all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are mine, Peter, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better off you’ll be.” He gestures to Bucky, kneeling behind the boy, head bowed in defeat. “I would like nothing more than to keep you and your mate happily tangled together all day long. But this morning, you chose to throw my kindness and generosity back in my face and behaved, simply put, like an animal. So, this is a moment I want you to remember the next time you’re feeling angry or hard-done by: I don’t have to give you any of these luxuries. I can - and will - replace them with much less favorable conditions if you misbehave. Hopefully, the harshness of this punishment will help this lesson stick in your tender little brain.”

He pets the boy’s head gently, then circles around him to address Bucky. “As for you, Bucky, my wonderful boy - perhaps take the opportunity to educate your omega the next time I’m kind enough to leave you two together. He chose to step out of line and brought this punishment down on both of you. If you don’t want it to happen again, I suggest you have a long and thorough chat with him about who’s in charge around here.” He strokes Bucky’s stubble-covered cheek. Bucky’s conflicted, despaired gaze is turned away from him, as good of a sign of submission as any.

Perfectly on time, Tony’s phone dings in his pocket then, alerting him that his honored guests have arrived.

He kisses Bucky’s forehead, pats Peter’s trembling flank, and heads for the lobby to greet their visitors.

��

He gets himself a nice chair for the show.

It’s not nearly as comfortable as his armchair upstairs, but it’s good enough. He reclines in the corner, feet propped up on Bucky’s table between the alpha’s food and water dishes, crossed at the ankle as he lounges comfortably. His guests are standing throughout the room, but each of them knows better than to stand in front of him, obstructing his view. Most stand against the glass wall, in front of Peter’s hysteric, sobbing face, as far away from Bucky’s enraged fury as they can get.

He’s chosen some of the best men he knows. Betas, like him, who lean more to the above-average side of the spectrum when it comes to things like height, weight and cock size. None of them can compare to the sheer massive size of an alpha, but that’s almost the point of this punishment.

Oh, how little Peter screams and fights when the first beta mounts him.

It must be so confusing. His little cunt, dripping with slick, begging to be filled, to be fucked and knotted - only to be given a too-small, too-thin, unsatisfactory beta cock. Some mated omegas have claimed that the semen of anyone apart from their alpha’s burns when it’s pumped inside them, which hasn’t been properly tested or proven, but Tony is tempted to believe it after watching Peter squeal and thrash when the first man creampies him.

And yet, oh, the poor little thing’s hips are moving so desperately. His heat has fully taken hold of him, now - compelling him to be bred, to seek out and attract his mate by any means necessary. With Bucky kneeling so close behind him, close enough to smell and hear, Peter’s body seems to be wonderfully confused. He rides each beta cock that’s humped inside of him like he needs their come to live, then jerks and sobs when he finally gets what his needy little body is after.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Bucky clearly doesn’t agree. Snarling like an aggressive dog, Tony doesn’t blame his guests for quailing away from the bound beast. Frothy spit drips from the alpha’s chin as he does his best to bare his teeth with the mouth guard gagging his lips open. The stockade makes loud, thundering bangs every time he tries to dislodge it from its base, desperate to tear the beta in front of him away from his omega and rip him in half like a Christmas cracker. He’s unsuccessful, of course - Tony built that stockade to withstand an alpha even larger than Thor - but it’s intimidating all the same.

After the third beta has had his turn, Peter goes limp on his bench. He whines pitifully as the fourth man mounts him, sliding inside easily, stirring the mess of come and slick inside of his fuckhole with his dick. Peter, as unwilling as he is, can’t stop himself from moaning and rolling his hips in tandem with the beta’s, trying to make the man’s cock fill him deeper, wider, fuller. Tony smiles at the desperate way Peter is bouncing his hips. It must be maddening, to be fucked over and over again by a series of eager cocks not biologically designed to satisfy you.

Slick and beta come glob onto the floor as Peter desperately rides the man standing behind him. Bucky howls through his gag like he’s being castrated, vicious and frantic to get to his mate and breed him properly. Tony grins at the desperate struggling his gorgeous alpha is still putting up. It makes him rise to his feet almost subconsciously, not sparing the breeding bench a glance as he walks around it and approaches the stockade.

Bucky knows better than to lunge for him. Still, his thrashing increases tenfold when he thinks his Daddy might be crouching behind him to undo his restraints. Tony loves how basic, how single-minded heats and ruts make his pets become, how they reduce them to their most primitive selves. Like this, Bucky can’t even fathom why Tony wouldn’t free him and allow him to defend and claim his mate. Without a doubt, all thoughts of lessons and punishments have been pushed far from the alpha’s mind. He’s a beast, like this. A pitiful, powerless beast.

He grunts and snarls when Tony cups his huge, distended balls. Rigid, swollen and heavy with fresh come, they hang dark and tight between Bucky’s legs, nearly touching the floor. Tony gently massages them, watching the alpha’s massive cock bob and leak precome from the stimulation. Poor thing. He truly doesn’t deserve to be tormented like this, but Tony can only hope he uses this pain as motivation in helping him train and tame Peter.

As five betas becomes six and then seven, Tony stays crouched behind Bucky, gently working his balls with the palms of his hands to provide some relief for his aching, anguished alpha. Peter’s pitiful cries fill the room, louder than the pleasured groans of the men filling him, louder even than Bucky’s muffled screams of rage.

That’s why Tony is able to hear it so clearly when his baby sobs, “I’m - I’m sorry, D...Daddy, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” Sobbing so hard, the words shatter like glass as they leave his damp lips. “Daddy I’m sorry, please forgive me, p-please, Daddy!” Tony stands, almost leaping to grab the beta still humping away wantonly at his princess’s backside and fling him off without a care.

“Baby,” he soothes instantly, stroking Peter’s trembling flank to try and settle his wailing sobs. “Oh, sweetheart, my little princess, hush now. You’re all right.” He leans in, kisses the omega’s quivering back, stroking his sweat-matted hair. “It’s all right now, sweet boy. Daddy forgives you.”

Impatiently, Tony snaps his fingers, dismissing the men without so much as looking at them. As the last one files out, the door automatically locking behind him, Tony undoes Peter’s cuffs but leaves him bent over the bench, hanging there limply, as he once more crouches beside Bucky. He removes the gag, opens Bucky’s restraints, and is quick to jerk back as Bucky surges upwards and descends on Peter with pure animal desperation.

And still, Tony’s wonderful boy is human enough to gather his tiny mate in his arms and carry him over to his bed, crowding him against the dull greys of his bedding as he slots himself between Peter’s spread legs and pumps his cock inside of him. Peter mewls gratefully, arms iron-tight around Bucky’s neck, his trembling legs trying to cling to Bucky’s wide waist, their chests pressed flush together as Bucky sinks his teeth into Peter’s mating bite, sinks his cock into Peter’s well-fucked cunt.

Smiling, Tony returns to the proper side of the glass, leaving the pair to their own devices - or as close as he’s willing to allow them to come to it. He watches for the better part of an hour as Bucky breeds, grooms, gentles and then breeds Peter once again, repeating the process over and over, making sure to pay special attention each time he licks up the mess leaking from his omega’s abused hole, as if the beast cannot rest until every drop of beta come has been cleaned from Peter’s body.

—

The utter lack of sleep his boys have had in the last 24 hours shows when they pass out towards their fifth round. They’d been up talking and fucking the whole night before, and neither had slept a second since their separation this morning. It was bound to happen.

Bucky has rolled onto his side, one of the only (formerly) clean blankets pulled over the two of them. Peter’s face is pressed into the barely-there space between the alpha’s bicep - of which he’s laying his head on - and one of those meaty pecs. They’re chest to chest, and by the way Peter shifts every now and again (and the leg clearly thrown across that broad waist), still firmly connected via knot. Bucky’s other arm is wrapped firmly around Peter’s waist, his nose tucked into the sticky, matted curls of his omega. Only the alpha’s feet peak out from under the blanket, Peter too small to reach that far down under a clearly alpha-sized blanket.

Given that the pair aren’t doing much, Tony decides to attend to a few things. His boys need a bath, badly, but that can wait. Instead, he goes upstairs to Peter’s kennel. Entering with a laundry hamper and gloves, he begins stripping Peter’s bed of all its baby blankets and fluffy pillows. Thankfully, Peter isn’t one to revenge pee. He’s had a few pets who had taken up the hobby. Still, it’s a sticky, come-drenched mess, and dried come isn’t his idea of a good moisturizer.

Usually, a team of professionals come through once a week and clean all the kennels, replacing the bedding, tending to the bathrooms, and grooming some of his other pets. His favorites…well, they tend to get a little more special attention from Daddy. He loves keeping his alphas’ hair long and some level of beard on them. It accentuates the masculinity of already hyper-masculine beings. Trimming and tending to the hairy alphas is a small indulgence of his. The only exception to the hair-loving rule is their balls.

Regularly, his boys receive a waxing. Steve actually had been calm enough for lasering and no longer needs them. Thor enjoys the attention enough to hold still through the tugs, and Tony always gets a nice show of Thor leaning down to clean his now-smooth pair nearly every time. Bucky is…rough at times. His balls are so large, the process takes just a bit longer and it can never be done soft. The waxer tends to always be concerned about too much loose skin if Bucky isn’t hard while getting the service. Tony had never seen Bucky’s skin ever be loose enough to worry much, but now with Peter, he’s beginning to understand it. With Peter’s body to hold all of his come for him, the alpha’s balls have started to show more wrinkles and gentle sagging. Tony’s surprised with himself for finding it appealing, after his love for those balls filled with come has bordered on obsession for a few years now.

Either way, those smooth balls on their hairy bodies is truly a lovely juxtaposition, and his omegas seem to enjoy sucking on them far more without bristly little hairs poking at their face and tongue.

With the bedding now packed away, he lugs it to the laundry shoot to be cleaned. Peter will need spares soon, but his baby is so often cold in the night, all the blankets meant to be extras have made their way onto the bed. His princess loves all things soft and plush, so to deny him any of those things when it’s just so fitting for such a delicate omega, it’s inconceivable, even for him.

The hardest clean-up job will be the pair themselves. As much as he loves seeing them both soiled and rolling in each other’s slick and come, Peter is beginning to look matted and ill-kept, unbefitting of a princess. Maybe Bucky can get away with the look, with his brutish build and gruff disposition, but he is officially mated to Peter and thus now has some upkeep to maintain.

He can’t but help smile to himself a little at the thought. He really does adore the pair. Bucky may have always been a bit of a bull in a china shop, but seeing this soft and irresistibly sweet side to a pet he already loved has pulled Bucky up to a level similar to Peter in his mind.

Wanting to be back with the pair, he wanders down to the basement, watches from behind the pane of glass as he usually does, but with the two sleeping and his hands itching to touch, he slips inside. JARVIS enabled, he goes over to Bucky, letting the tap of his shoes be softly audible so as not to startle the large creature resting on the bed. Bucky isn’t prone to attacking him, not for a long time, but he knows better than to sneak up on him. That is the unspoken agreement between them; so long as Bucky knows Tony is the one there, he won’t make a move to hurt him.

The sound has its desired effect. Bucky raises his head slowly to see who’s coming. Seeing Tony, he rests his head back against the large, spacious pillows that had been one of his birthday presents last year.

Hands wandering across Bucky’s back and up to his shoulder, he leans in close to speak softly to the alpha, not wanting to wake Peter.

“How are you feeling, love? Any pain?” Rubs a thumb along the still slightly red line across the back of Bucky’s neck from banging against his restraints.

“No, Daddy. Just…tired.” Bucky doesn’t make eye contact, but does tilt his head towards Tony, a movement meant to show submission whilst clearly paying attention.

Tony can’t resist kissing up the side of Bucky’s face, working one of those massive shoulders under his hand. “Daddy’s not mad at you, okay Buck? You’ve been such a good boy for me. Not mad at Peter either now; he just needs to settle in and you need to help him with that. Sound doable?”

Bucky nods, eyes darting towards the bite mark. Craning his neck up, Bucky carefully licks at the wound, a clear apology on behalf of his mate, despite the one he had accepted earlier from the boy himself. Tony leans into it. JARVIS would have done something if this was an aggressive move. Years have given the AI the ability to read Bucky’s intentions like a book. Plus, Bucky is transferring some of that sweetness onto Daddy, and he’s greedy for it now that he knows it exists.

He pulls away once the man finishes. He strokes Bucky’s hair, pushing it back and admiring the stunning man beneath his hands. Those steel-blue eyes never fail to drag him under, they were the first thing he fell in love with in his pet. They scream intelligence and speak to a being who feels deeply, even if it’s hidden behind layers of brutal ability and aggression.

Sliding a hand down Bucky’s arm, he touches Peter, letting Bucky see and feel where he’s going with the motion to prevent any sudden, protective moves. Thankfully, it works - Bucky only tightens his grip a little bit on Peter, but refrains from intervening, knowing that Peter is Daddy’s first, even if instinct scream out against it.

Peter’s skin is damn near buttery in just how supple it is under his fingers. He rounds the bed, putting himself where Bucky can see as he runs greedy hands over the boy. It wakes Peter up, but with the punishment still fresh in his mind, he merely curls into Bucky’s arms and gets his fill.

“Petey.” The omega flinches, even as Tony’s tone remains even and soft. “How are you feeling, princess?”

A soft sniffle nearly breaks his heart. Bucky shushes and pulls Peter tight, rocking his hips gently to provide some sort of comfort. Maybe a grounding sensation? He hasn’t had a mated pair like these two, a lot of things are assumptions for the time being.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’ve got Bucky here, and Daddy just wants to make sure you’re not hurting. We won’t do that ever again as long as you don’t go trying to make Daddy hurt again.” He rubs his back, the knobs of Peter’s spine reminding him that the boy hasn’t eaten since yesterday.

Bucky manages to shove his face next to Peter’s, licking up the tears leaking from his tiny mate’s swollen eyes. Being close up now, his pet looks terrible. The betas had been under strict rules not to hurt the defenseless boy, but the bruise on his cheek has Tony feeling terrible. It’s not a dark one, but still a clear sign that he’s raised a hand against the omega. Peter shouldn’t have lashed out, but it’s Tony’s job to be above lashing out in return. Apologizing is not an option. Peter had done wrong and been punished for it, but he still wishes he had reigned in the response. Peter’s punishment should have been more controlled, beginning and ending with the betas.

He runs a gentle, paternal hand through Peter’s curls, bringing in his other one to help gently break up the spunk and sweat-glued strands. Saliva is likely in there as well, but Peter will be getting a bath soon enough to straighten the mess out. It’s terrible to see his hair so flat and limp. It’s an endlessly endearing trait, and why he keeps Peter’s hair on the longer side when all of his female omegas have short bobs or complex plaits and braids to keep things neat.

“Baby.” Taking Peter’s hip in his hand and gently rolling the small amount of baby fat there, he leans down, just out of range of a bite, but still able to be heard in his hushed tone. “You need to tell Daddy where you’re hurting so he can fix it. Can you do that for me, Peter?”

The boy stays still for a few, fleeting heartbeats, before nodding. It takes him a few moments to compose himself enough to speak through his hiccups. “My - my insides. My hole - it burns. Th-they put something in it and it still hurts. E-even with Bucky inside m-me, D-daddy.”

Oh dear, maybe the beta come hurts more than he’d realized.

“Bucky, sweet boy, would you take Peter to the bathroom, please? I need to go grab something. Take a blanket with you, poor omega looks like he’s about to freeze.”

Bucky does as he’s told, gathering his tiny mate up into his arms and moving him to the bathroom. His cock now slips out and swings limply between his legs as he concerns himself with his aching sweetheart.

Going to the supply closet, he pulls out an enema kit. He keeps a wide assortment of tack, gear, medical and various other supplies in it. He has never regretted anything that made its way to the closet, and he’s glad he’d thought to keep such things on hand for times like this.

Moving back to Bucky’s kennel, he goes into the bathroom to find Bucky tongue deep in Peter’s hole, but the poor thing is still shaking and complaining of pain. Ignoring him for the time, Bucky lays himself lightly over Peter, who had been shakily holding onto the edge of the tub during his rimming session. It never fails to make his heart go just a little bit soft seeing Bucky like this. Who knew the beast really just needed a mate - a purpose, really - to bring out something so tender.

He shoos Bucky away, even as the alpha grumbles. Filling the enema with warm water, just a bit closer to the hotter side of things, he caps the bottle with its nozzle. Laying Peter in the tub and having him pull a leg up, he inserts the tip and squeezes the bottle. He has to be careful not to do too much, or the resulting cramps may be worse than the burning semen.

“Now just hold it for a moment, Peter. We’ll do it a few times to wash you out well, then you can have Bucky’s come later without any of the hurting, okay?”

“O-kay.” Curled up and twitching, but covered with a thick blanket from the bed, Peter holds still as the water does its thing.

Moving Peter to the toilet to release the water is easy when you have a 6’9” alpha willing to do some leg work. Peter is repeatedly moved from toilet to tub until the burning subsides and the tears have calmed down. Tony suspects that the tears may have been more from stress than anything now, on the other end of things, but Peter finally calms down enough for him to leave the topic alone.

“Alright, last thing, Peter. You need a bath.” And oh, how Tony would love to be the one to scrub that porcelain body and tame those curls, but that will have to wait for another day. He has work to do, and Peter likely will prefer his mate at the moment. “Bucky’s gonna get you cleaned up.”

He turns to the alpha, sitting quietly on the toilet and now trying to gather Peter into his lap. “I need you to clean him up and keep him clean. If you need to breed again, do it before the bath, but make sure you clean up his curls.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” He leans down, cheek turned to Bucky, who gives him a gentle, slightly scratchy kiss.

He looks at Peter. “Are you going to be nice and give Daddy a kiss, princess?”

Peter looks away, nodding.

Tony leans forward, turning his injured cheek to Peter. The little omega gives it the softest of licks and a light kiss to the damage he’s done. Tony gives them both a kiss on the forehead as a reward.

As he leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “Bucky, let JARVIS know what you two would like to eat tonight, I’ll send whatever you want down.”

With that, he exits the basement and removes himself from the mates’ lives, for now.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 14

of the wwx emperor au that’s now more like the terrible horrible time the Lan Sect is having ugh

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1 | Chapter 8 Part 2 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13

It does not take long to leave the noise of the disciples and their game behind them.

The path around the mountain is wide, and appears to have been well tended throughout the warmer months. Still, the evidence of the recent autumn storms is everywhere, frequently forcing them to detour around fallen branches and uprooted brush.

The first time Nie MingJue offers him a hand in assistance, XiChen nearly trips over nothing but his own feet. Although they hardly come upon any obstacles that require such attention, XiChen accepts each time, and each time the anticipation of the next seems to grow.

XiChen’s hands are not soft by any means. His calluses are not only present on the areas so frequently affected by sword practice, but years of playing the guqin have hardened his fingers as well. They are not hands that must be treated with care, yet Nie MingJue does, his grip light and gentle. Each time, the warmth of his palm inevitably travels to XiChen’s face, and XiChen very much hopes that the color in his cheeks can be ascribed the cold mountain breeze instead.

“How do you like the Peach Blossom Pavilion?” Nie MingJue says, and XiChen finds himself surprised by the question.

For all the insinuations the Royal Companion had made about Madam Yu being attentive to their accommodations, at no point has anyone actually inquired after their comfort. XiChen is fairly certain that most of the guests are unaware of the Lan Sect’s current residence in the Immortal Mountain City.

It is logical, that the General of the Emperor’s army would keep a close track of everyone’s accommodations, and express some interest in the matter. Still, XiChen so rarely considers his own comfort, that it takes him a few moments to formulate a response.

“It is peaceful,” he says finally, “I like it very much.”

It is far removed from the palaces usually occupied by distinguished guests. It is also small, and does not require a sea of servants to maintain. These are all welcome things to the Lan Sect, who do not want to be in close proximity to the others, and place great value in peace and silence. However, XiChen does not know how to voice any of those benefits without making them sound like grievances.

“It is one of the oldest structures in the Immortal Mountain City,” Nie MingJue says, “do you know the story behind the name?”

“Only that the Empress Immortal had settled there upon first arriving to the Immortal Mountain.”

Nie MingJue nods, and helps XiChen navigate two crude stone steps, worn down by centuries of wind and rain. The path evens out again, but the incline is now noticeable. The air is so rich here, that XiChen can almost taste the coolness of it on his tongue.

“At the time, the Empress Immortal was only a rogue cultivator,” Nie MingJue says, “A capable one, but not yet renown enough to form an Empire. It is said that she could feel the inherent power of the Immortal Mountain, and had chosen to settle here precisely for this reason. I, however, am more inclined to think that she was simply searching for some peace and silence.”

The words are followed by a small smile in XiChen’s direction, and XiChen cannot help but smile back.

“The Peach Blossom Pavilion is named for the peach tree that grew in its place. The legend states that the Empress Immortal spent her first night underneath this tree, and that the tree bore fruit the next morning to provide her with nourishment.”

This part of the story is unfamiliar to XiChen, and he listens attentively, wondering where it could possibly lead.

“She built her first home next to that same peach tree, and when the autumn storms took it down, her second and her third. Although she still traveled far and wide, the Immortal Mountain became a place she considered her own, a shelter from the rest of the world.”

Ahead, a small pile of rocks obstructs their way. Larger boulders had dislodged at one point, but the majority of them had rolled past the path itself, crumbling into the fissure below. Still, when Nie MingJue offers his hand, XiChen takes it.

“Eventually, the peach tree died. Most commonly it is said that the Immortal Empress was gone too long, and found it already withered on her return. Some prefer to think that a storm had uprooted the tree, a lesson on the inconsistency of all living things when faced with the might of Heavens. Others say that enemies of the Immortal Empress destroyed it on purpose. The details vary from one region to another.”

At one point, Nie MingJue’s fingers had tightened around his own, and now, XiChen cannot seem to shake the tingling sensation that envelops his hand from fingertips to his wrist.

“The story is always clear on the aftermath, however. The Empress Immortal was still young, and already extremely advanced in cultivation. She had not yet learned that spiritual power has its limits, and that the natural progression of life cannot be altered without consequences.”

The path is steadily rising now, curving more sharply around the mountain face, the trees growing scarce.

“She was determined to have her peach tree. In order to accomplish this, she sunk all of her power into the mountain soil. She exerted herself to such an extent that her death should have been the outcome. And although she lived, nearly half a century would pass before her spiritual power recovered.”

The next curve stops XiChen in his tracks.

The mountain face is steep here, but not so steep that it cannot support growth. A field of grass and wildflowers stretches in front of his eyes, waving in the mountain wind. And in the middle of this field, dozens of peach trees stand tall, each one in full bloom.

They are beautiful. The color of their blossoms is so vivid, it seems painted on with a heavy hand, the innermost flowers so dark, that they resemble droplets of blood. The breeze easily snatches their petals, carpeting the field in an ocean of pink and white.

They are lovely, and yet, the longer XiChen watches them, the more unsettled he feels. It takes him a few moments to pinpoint the source of his unease, and then it is so obvious that he feels foolish.

It is late autumn. No peach trees bloom in autumn.

“They bloom all year long,” Nie MingJue says, “They never age, and they never bear fruit.”

“Oh,” XiChen says, more of a breath than a word, and easily lost in the wind.

They are not real.

There are so many wondrous things one can accomplish with spiritual power, but no amount of skill or strength is capable of creation. Spiritual power cannot turn back death, and it cannot give birth to new life.

XiChen remembers this lesson so clearly, that for an instant, he is back in the Library Pavilion at Cloud Recesses, hearing his uncle’s calm voice, smelling the gardenias growing by the pavilion windows.

All things are born, and all things must die. Even the greatest cultivators in the world, those who reach immortality, will one day be nothing but bones and dust in the earth, their last purpose to nourish new life. He had committed the lesson to memory then, but he does not think that he fully understood it until this very moment, faced with a dozen blooming peach trees in the late autumn.

Frozen in a moment, forever unchanging. Beautiful to see, but lacking everything that makes them truly alive.

A deep, inexplicable sorrow envelops him, and he feels his breath stutter in his chest.

“I have upset you,” Nie MingJue says, voice heavy with concern, “Forgive me. That was not my intention.”

“No, I--“

XiChen does not know how to explain himself. His happiness or melancholy are so rarely addressed in words, that he does not possess the vocabulary necessary to speak of them.

“I am not upset, I am only-- sad for them, I suppose.”

He cannot meet Nie MingJue’s eyes. He feels silly, and wonders if the man thinks him ridiculous.

“You must think me foolish.”

“I do not,” Nie MingJue says.

He sounds upset at the implication, but whatever other words he may have to say never come.

There is an unexpected noise behind them, a sound of many boots traveling the same path. XiChen turns to find a dozen men in the uniforms of the Imperial Guard.

The man leading them, a tall youth XiChen does not remember meeting before, bows to Nie MingJue and addresses him directly.

“General Nie, forgive me. I have been ordered to take Young Master Lan into custody, and escort him to the Jade Sword Palace.”

XiChen feels every part of his body turn numb at the words.

“Into custody?” Nie MingJue says, “For what reason?”

“For the attempted murder of the HeJian Fan Sect Leader.”

[nurseofren]

Request pls 🥺 Philip Altman waking up the reader by jerking off on top of her? Thank you 🥵🥵🥵

Warnings: PIV sex, fingerfucking, mutual masturbation, cream pie, cum eating, fluff at the end but not really. I spelled his name wrong throughout this entire thing, though I swore it had only one L. Smh endure lmao I’m not fixing it.

ST Rambles: I love this man. He is such an idiot. But a hot one. I have another request for shower sex w Philip and I’m v excited!

--

A constant pattern of sound took you from sleep, your eyes fluttering open and shutting in rejection when you glimpsed the bright green numbers on the alarm clock. It was a little past three in the morning. 

You flopped a languid hand beside you, in search of Philip. He was usually passed out cold at this time, but he was gone. 

“Philip?” Words grated against your groggy throat.

A louder noise - tense, breathy, and needy - woke you up further. Blinking hard one more time and spinning your head forward, you found your boyfriend in all his glory. No clothes. Flushed cheeks. Parted lips. Desperate eyes targeting your chest.

He was heaving over you, broad shoulders flexing fluidly in the shadowed room. Light glinted off his teeth when his lips pulled back into dark smirk, eyes staying put. A choppy collection of hair obstructed some of his forehead, sweat tinging the ends. 

A second longer and you felt the warm presence of a hand kneading your breast. You looked down and Philip pinched your nipple until your eyes snapped up to his.

“Wanna join me?” His tongue swiped out over his bottom lip as his eyes drifted down toward somewhere you hadn’t looked, though you’d suspected.

Mouth drying and cunt throbbing, you crawled up on your elbows and looked to find two massive, flexing thighs framing your legs. In their center was the flushed flesh of the enormous cock you held a claim on. Philip’s hand was furious, the hand on your chest partially keeping balance as he leaned forward and stroked himself over you. 

He’d already removed the sheets which once shielded you, the cold air barely apparent while he bathed you in his body heat. Watching him for a moment, seeing precum form and gather and glide down his shaft while he worked himself masterfully, you felt your walls flutter with need. Desire stuck hot and thick in your throat. You needed him inside you, wanted to feel his cum fill you just as much as you wanted to feel it drip out.

“Fucking Christ, Altman.” It was a moan. Yearning and whiny.

Philip’s hand landed heavy next to your head when he brought his face right to yours. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Long fingers scooped the back of your skull and pulled your head up, his lips crushing yours while waves of quick, huffed breaths washed over your cheeks. You swiveled your hips up to prompt his down, feeling his cockhead slide between your folds easily. You were wet, so ready to take him at any given moment.

“Mm, such a slut. You even want me in your sleep, don’t you?”

Teeth catching his bottom lip, you bit until he grunted. “Hm, maybe, but I at least keep it to myself.” 

A laugh chimed between the two of you. Philip guided himself over your entrance and pushed the tip just barely inside. A sharp gasp left you. You wanted him more than you’d thought.

“Rub your clit, I’m not taking my time.”

“If you can even make me cum to begin with.”

A frenzy flashed in his eyes when his hand grabbed around your throat and compressed your arteries. While he did this he slammed into you, a merciless movement so your entrance stung in pain before it could set in pleasure at his fullness.

“Oh, so is this a challenge?” 

After a few seconds he permitted your blood flow, a head rush quickly booming in your ears, body settling into his presence. He was impossibly big, every time he fucked you, you could hardly believe his size. It felt like it was choking you, and partially it was; a sputter of moans croaked onto his neck in response to his unrivaled cock. 

“No. No. No challenge.” You really just wanted him to fuck you back to sleep, wanted to revel in how he felt. “Philip, baby--” you laved up his pulse and teethed at his lobe “--fuck me breathless. Simple. That’s what I want.”

Philip could never resist when you called him pet names, or when you neared anywhere close to his ears. He was instant putty in your hands, picking a pace and building from there. First he was slow, letting you feel all of him, allowing himself to slide into your wet cunt until his balls met the heated flesh. Quickly, though, as you were both impatient, he began a steady, punishing pace.

The sound of slapping skin fell in line with his thrusts, squelches adding a sense of urgency as you swiped over your clit and aided him in constructing your orgasm. Both his forearms were at either side of your head now, his fingers knotted in your hair as he kept his lips on yours, his tongue swiping sparks over your own.

He laughed to himself while he continued pressing sloppy kisses into your lips. “You’re close.” It was a sing-song tone.

“Shut up for once in your life.” He was right, and your panted words proved that.

He shook his head against yours. Your free hand plunged red streaks down his back, biting into the flexed flesh and earning moans with each trail. There was a slight skip in his pace.

“Hm, you’re closer, though.”

“Alright, so this is a challenge.” Philip pulled completely out of you, sitting back on his knees and robbing you of warmth and fullness.

“What the fuck?” You rested back up to your elbows and stared at him while frustration bloomed below your waist.

“Keep touching your clit.” His eyes had darkened.

“And if I don’t?”

“Stop being such a brat and listen for once in your life.” He was no longer playful like before. Command obvious in his words.

Narrowed eyes peered back at each other, his brow raising as to question if you really wanted to test him. Rolling your eyes, you did as he said, pressing a pattern of swipes into the raised flesh, fire burning deep in your belly. Philip watched you pleasure yourself with hungry eyes.

Too quick for you to protest, not that you would’ve, he plunged three fingers into your core.

“Oh my God! Philip!” The sudden intrusion catapulted you towards release, leaving heat to form fast and fester as you continued over your clit.

He drew back and hooked his digits so they worked your g-spot. A stutter of whines came, your cheeks on fire and your thighs quaking.

“So, I can’t make you cum, hm?” He kept stoking himself, a fast hand gripping around his aching cock. His whole chest had turned red, his cheeks obvious even in the darkness. 

“I nev- never said that,” a grimace formed as you felt the first flickers of an orgasmic flood coming, “Philip, please!”

A drop of sweat formed and fell from the tip of his nose and onto your inner thigh. The tiny sensation felt enormous in the presence of an impending climax. Keeping focus on the fist over his cock, translating its speed into the finger tips over your clit, you felt a crest of bliss glitter over your skull.

As a moan pushed past gritted teeth, you looked into his eyes to find he was already searching your own, his face tight in its own contortion of potentiating pleasure.

“Cum. Now.” 

Spit sprayed past his teeth and onto your exposed skin, your body obeying without objection. You jumped willfully into release, letting your pussy clench around his fingers, thanking the heavens he kept them there, swiping over your clit even while you were in the throes of and basking in pleasure.

Philip grunted, hand still bludgeoning his erection until you felt the familiar hot, sticky presence of his cum collect and drip down your folds.

You felt a quick pressure over your entrance, the feeling drawing a mewl in your state of recovery. Philip had a point to prove, and you knew which one it was, already having your mouth open to receive his seed.

He pressed heavy fingers onto your tongue, your lips forming a seal around the salt-covered flesh and sucking him clean, laving between them and biting at his knuckles when you were done. Dazed eyes looked up at him, a sated hand catching onto his wrist and pressing the palm of his hand onto your chest.

He swam in your gaze a little longer, eyes peering down your sweat-lit body and then to the alarm clock. His eye twitched before he settled in next to you, nuzzling into your neck and pulling your waist into his hips.

He hummed, pressing gentle pecks along back of your neck, a hand settling between your breasts and gripping onto the one nearest to him. You lined your fingers up with his grip, swiping your thumb over his own.

“I win,” he breathed.

You bit back a smile, basking in his warmth and twisting your hips into his, knowing exactly what you were doing.

I win, you thought. I always win when I’m with you.

[isis-astarte-diana]

The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: Missy never gets to play rough with humans anymore - except for you, of course. [One Shot] [NSFW]

Warnings: Explicit, NSFW, 18+, but all of that said over and over again while shouting and banging a gong. It’s a self-indulgent work of fiction so be on the lookout for unhealthy relationship dynamics, less-than-stellar bondage practices and inappropriate use of Victorian footwear. Missy is her own warning. I’m gay, let me live.

Word Count: 3468

NB: Reader and Missy are both explicitly described as having vulvas. In the future I’ll try to have some more inclusive stuff coming out!

“Say something nice.”

Her hand is around your neck. Your breaths are laboured, but she’s not squeezing; just resting her cool palm against your throat, fingers spanning either side of your windpipe. You can feel your own rapid pulse where she touches you. The gentle pressure is a threat and a promise.

Enraptured, you gaze up at her. “I missed you today.”

Missy grins. It’s predatory, all gleaming teeth and blood-red lips, and something primal in your lizard brain is screaming but there’s no way to run and nowhere to hide with your arms spread wide and shackled to the console of her TARDIS, keeping you on your knees, naked with chest and belly and everything exposed to her searching eyes, her tearing hands, her biting mouth.

In her wool skirt and crisp blouse she looks radiant. Her cuffs are still buttoned, feathery lace framing the black fingernails she’s honed down to lethal talons, and her hair sits perfectly undisturbed. Save for her discarded jacket and the cameo brooch she’s removed from her collar, she’s fully dressed. It makes your exposure feel all the more obscene. Each throb of your heart reminds you that flesh, for all its pleasures, is pitifully weak.

She might have read your mind. “Can you feel it, darling?” She leans forward, close enough that you can see the flecks of makeup clinging to her lashes. “Something’s gone wrong in your DNA. Six million years of evolution and when the big bad wolf comes a-calling, you take off your clothes for her."

Your pulse skips at the warning in her voice. She’s right, of course - the knowledge of all that she’s done should send you running for the hills, but she’s turned you upside down and inside out and back to front until you’ll leap at the chance to chain yourself up in her larder, until you’re pushing your own throat into her open jaws. She could kill you in sixteen different ways at this very moment without breaking a sweat.

She won’t, of course. You know that. Still, it makes it all a bit more exciting.

“Now why,” the tips of her fingernails, dagger-pointed, make their presence known in the soft skin of your neck, “would a clever girl like you get down on her knees for me?”

You’re hypnotised by her eyes, wild and sharp and glittering like broken glass. “Because I’m yours.”

“Because you’re mine, what?” The claws dig deeper. This is the game.

“Because I’m yours, Mistress.”

Her eyes flutter closed with a soft sound of pleasure, her hand falling from your neck. There's power here for you, too; the power to please, or displease. Reward and punishment are both tantalising options.

The thing about Missy, though, is that she's unpredictable. 

When her palm collides with your cheek it startles you. Pain blooms hot and pink where she slapped you, and you set your jaw against it, swallowing hard. Without the use of your hands there's nothing you can do to soothe the sting. She completes the symmetry, her other hand striking the opposite side of your face. The pins-and-needles burn of it sends tears prickling at your eyes and your head drops as you struggle to regain your composure.

A harsh tug on your hair suggests that she has other ideas. Your chin snaps up from your heaving chest and she takes hold of it, hard enough to make your jaw hurt. Her lips brush faintly against your temple as she murmurs, “yes, you are, my love.”

There is no trace of tenderness in the way she sinks her teeth into your neck, yanking your head back to keep your jugular exposed. It’s a deep, clenching pain that works down into the muscle, pushing a cry past your lips before you can stop it. Your restraints rattle as you jerk in her grip like a rabbit in a fox’s mouth.

The hand that isn’t fisted in your hair, pulling at your scalp with eye-watering strength, rakes its nails up your exposed side and leaves goosebumps in its wake. You try in vain to squirm away but there’s not enough slack in your position for even the most pathetic movement and suddenly she’s twisting your nipple cruelly between thumb and forefinger. Despite your whine of protest, the stimulation triggers rippling pleasure between your parted thighs.

Missy’s jaws unlock from your throat and she sucks an angry bruise into the groove her teeth have left there. The exquisite ache, coupled with the ongoing torture her fingers inflict on your nipple, has you moaning with dizzying need. You can feel her smirking against your skin.

“Say it again, love.” She drags her tongue up the side of your neck.

The words come out strained. “I’m yours, Mistress.” She shivers with delight and slides her hand down your chest, over your stomach, and begins to idly play with your pubic hair. It’s not enough, not where you need her. You rock your hips, greedily trying to draw her touch downwards to where you’re slick and burning with desperation.

You should know by now that this is not the right move.

She pulls back immediately, landing another blazing slap across your face. Your mouth opens in a stunned cry but the sound is robbed from you when she slides three delicate fingers between your lips. Her skin is smooth and salt-bitter and you try to claw back her favour with adoring, worshipping licks but something cold stirs behind her eyes. The curve of her smile is sickle-sharp.

“Humans,” she muses, letting her fingers press deeper into your mouth. “So fragile.” Your eyes widen when she nears the back of your tongue but she knows what she’s doing, holding you in place by the hair while she triggers your gag reflex. Tears spring to your eyes as you choke and splutter on her fingers and she laughs, easing back unhurriedly and letting you breathe freely again. She keeps them there, knuckle deep in your mouth, just shy of obstructing your throat.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Missy teases. “I know that you’re dripping for me, darling. I can smell you.” She breathes deeply and you feel your face flush. Your thighs tense and squeeze closer together, doing the barest thing to soothe the ache there. Her boot slides between them and nudges them apart none-too-gently. “Patience.”

She presses forwards again. The first involuntary pulse of your throat has the salt spilling over from your eyes, a few hot tears arcing down your face. “Oh, poor girl.” Her voice is mocking. “Is this better?” As her fingers withdraw, she pushes a smooth, pointed leather toe up against your slick folds.

The touch runs up your spine like the jolt from a cattle prod. Your hands clench tightly on the crossbars of the console, so much effort focused on not rutting against her shoe that your teeth almost clamp down on her hand when she fills your throat once more.

This loss of control doesn’t go unnoticed. She speaks over the muffled sound of your gagging, tone low and threatening. “Bite me and I’ll pull your teeth out.”

It’s almost certainly an empty threat, but it works. You relax your jaw, and Missy begins to fuck your mouth in earnest, alternating between smooth strokes of her fingers and deliberate, deep thrusts that convulse your throat and force more tears from your eyes. The cold leather of her shoe grows slick as she starts to rub it up against your clitoris with the skill of an immortal.

The flickering pleasure settling in your abdomen is too much; you grind against her, riding the smooth leather in time with the drag and slide of her relentless fingers. She scoffs but doesn’t seem to mind.

“I could make you come like this.” It’s just an observation, but you moan weakly in agreement, sliding your tongue along the length of her fingers. “Just like this, on your knees, humping my boot like a dog.” She punctuates the words by nudging her toe forwards, just an inch, until the very tip of it breaches you. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s cold and unexpected and you make an indignant noise around the invading digits. She raises an eyebrow and presses further, far enough that you feel it beginning to stretch you open. You look up at her in a plea and she slides her fingers out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought you wanted to come?” Her knuckles, slick from your mouth, tip your chin up and force you to meet her eyes. “Is this not what you had in mind?” Your chest heaves as you drag in breath after grateful breath. Her voice hardens. “I’m waiting.”

“No, Mistress.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“And if it’s all I want to give you?” When you don’t respond quickly enough she pushes again, a faint burn settling in as the width stretches you more, half an inch of tapered leather now buried inside you. She speaks over your soft cry. “If it’s a choice between this and nothing at all?”

Humiliation be damned, the desperate, spasming need that grips your every intimate nerve stands testament that there is no decision to make. You concede. "Then I'll take all that you give, Mistress."

"Of course you will, darling. What else could you do?"

Despite your complaints you whine with disappointment when she pulls back, feeling open and empty where she's put you apart. Her hand tightens in your hair. "Down on your heels." Obediently you sink further down, sitting back on your heels for her. She uses her grip on your head to steady herself as she brings her slick boot up towards your face. "Clean it up."

Missy makes you work for it, keeping her foot just low enough that you have to lean forwards, straining your shoulders against the restraints. You drag your tongue greedily through your own sour-sweet arousal in the hope of softening her by eagerly degrading yourself. She nudges your jaws apart and pushes the toe of her boot between your lips. You give her a performative glance up through your lashes, bathing it with your tongue until all you taste is clean leather.

Suddenly your mouth is empty again, but your relieved breath is cut off when the sole of her shoe lands squarely in your chest, pushing you back until you’re flush with the railing. The heel is sharp against your breastbone.

“You want me to touch you?” You nod, breathless. “You want my fingers inside you, filling you, fucking you open until you beg for me to stop?” She pushes harder, letting the pressure of her pointed heel turn to pain.

“Please, Mistress.” Your heart pounds in your chest. “Yes, please, please.”

“Earn it.” She drops her foot to the ground and turns her back. One delicate hand slides into the pocket of her skirt as she walks away, towards the stairs. You hear the whir of her sonic.

The metal cuffs on your wrists detach from the console so abruptly that you crumple forwards, scarcely managing to catch yourself before your face hits the ground. The impact sends a bolt of pain through each arm, making you groan. She laughs.

“Come here.”

When you lift your head you see that she’s perched on the stairs, skirt hitched up around her waist, knees bent and spread wide in invitation. Eagerly you make to stand up.

“Down!” Her voice is like a whip cracking. “Crawl for me.”

Despite the ache in your hands and knees, you do as she says. The cold, wire-mesh floor of the console room is unforgiving beneath you and by the time you reach her there are stinging red imprints sinking into the skin of your kneecaps, your palms.

Even from a foot away you can see that she’s drenched. You wait, hands on the stair beneath her, mouth watering, for permission to touch her. After your ordeal shackled to the console it feels like the pendulum of power is swinging back towards you, at last.

Missy won’t allow it, of course. “Hands behind your back.”

Frowning, you lean back, weight on your sore knees once more as you clasp your hands together in the small of your back. You hear the sonic again and the electromagnets in the cuffs come to life, fastening them together tightly enough to pull your shoulder blades backwards and in. Her face hardens at the frustrated noise you make.

“I’ve not gone soft, you know,” she reminds you, leaning forwards to grasp your lower jaw in her slender fingers. “You can turn those big, sad eyes on me as much as you like.” She lets go and cracks her hand across your cheek. You know there’ll be bruises in the morning. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re pretty, dearest. Show me you deserve it, first.” Her fingers wind into your hair, pulling you sharply forwards and burying your face between her thighs.

Without the use of your hands to steady yourself the edge of each step digs into your torso. Your nose is buried in her dark curls, the tang and musk of her taking over your senses as you slide your tongue between her slick folds and drag it along the full length of her. She tightens her grip and warns, “if you tease me, I will make you regret it.”

So delighted are you to finally be kneeling between her legs that it’s a struggle to remember this is not a reward. You can’t resist a few more slow, indulgent licks, relishing the slight twitch of her thighs around your head. If you had any doubt over how much she enjoyed fucking your mouth with her fingers, it’s driven away immediately. She’s flooded with arousal, at least as much as you are, even the dimples at the apex of her thighs slippery with it. You suspect it won’t take long to finish her off.

As expected, she tugs on your hair, guiding your mouth higher as she lifts her hips and presses herself against the flat of your tongue. “Keep still,” she says harshly, and you’re delighted to hear that her breathing is uneven. “Going to ride your pretty mouth.”

She grinds against your mouth, using the surface of your tongue like a toy to rub in circles against her clitoris. You moan appreciatively into her flesh. With your face pushed into her mound like this you can’t catch a breath through your nose, and your chest begins to ache with need. Capable of only muffled sounds, you realise that you have no room to beg and she has no intention of letting you draw breath until she’s finished with you.

You push harder with your tongue, eyes squeezed shut as you try not to focus on the growing discomfort. You strain to match her movements as best you can. The motion of her hips speeds up, her breaths louder, one hand fisted in your hair and the other gripping the banister of the stairs.

The control is gone from her voice; it wavers, breathless. “There,” she demands. “Stay there, just like that.” You do as you’re told, muscles in your jaw aching with the effort of maintaining the speed and pattern of your tongue’s frenetic twitching. She’s close, dripping down your chin like ripe fruit, writhing underneath and above and around you.

Missy makes a sharp, feral noise, rocks her hips once, twice, three times and falls back against the staircase. A fresh rush of slickness coats your lips and cheeks as she relaxes, breathing hard. Her fingers slide out of your tangled hair. You turn your head, resting your damp face against her thigh while you catch your breath.

In a rare display of tenderness for moments like this, she drags her nails against your scalp. You hum contentedly and nuzzle the soft skin beneath your cheek, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. Feeling mischievous, you dare to bite down. She lets out a pointed, barking laugh and yanks your head away.

Of all the places she’s taken you, all the things you’ve seen, your favourite sight in the universe is still this one; Missy’s imperious figure, her eyebrow raised in challenge, her pupils blown with pleasure as you look up from between her legs. “Are you getting brave with me, now, love?” She sits up, taking you with her, forcing you back onto your heels. “Do you need putting in your place again?”

Having her fall apart under your tongue never fails to make you delirious with need. “Always, Mistress.”

Sometimes you forget her strength. She manipulates your body with dizzying speed and suddenly your face is being pushed into the metal floor, cheek and chest pressed against the mesh, eyes fixed on the blinking lights set into the wall panels. Your back is arched, hips raised and legs splayed out to give her easy access. Spread apart like this you can feel droplets of arousal marking ticklish trails down the insides of your thighs, towards your aching knees.

She’s behind you, above you. A bold fingertip parts your labia and strokes your desperate flesh, making you cry out. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Mistress,” you manage, voice muffled by the way your face is squished into the ground. “Please take me. Please show me who I belong to.”

Her patience for teasing you always runs dry, won out by the scorching need to have you. Three fingers slide inside you in an instant. There’s no pain - you’re far too slick for that - but this position introduces some tension so that it stretches and stings just the smallest bit. Being so suddenly and mercilessly filled has you whining, writhing on her fingers. She leans down against your back, the weight of her crushing your breasts painfully beneath you. Her teeth nip sharply at your shoulder.

“Always so ready for me,” she breathes against your earlobe, crooking her fingers just so until they hit the spot that makes your abdomen clench with exquisite, agonising pressure. You moan brokenly. “So desperate to be filled, split open on my fingers like this.”

“Mistress-” you can’t finish the plea, cutting off with a howl when she forces her smallest finger past your clenching muscles, stretching you wider until the burn absorbs every thought. You can feel your pulse thrumming against her invading fingers.

“One day,” she says, far too casually as she begins to fuck you slowly, “I’ll have my whole hand inside of you, dearest. I’ll wear you like a glove. Would you like that?”

You hope the choking sob you let out conveys the full extent of your terror and unbridled excitement at the idea. Every cell of your body throbs in time with the rocking pressure of her fingers. The hand forcing your head down moves, but you don’t have the strength to lift your face from the floor.

“Come on, love,” she croons, tongue flicking your earlobe. “It’s time. You’ve earned it.”

Her arm slips under your raised hips and between your thighs, the tips of two fingers pressing hard against your clitoris and working a pitiless rhythm against it. The noise forced from your throat as you clench down around her is scarcely human and suddenly you’re coming, pinned beneath her, nothing to do but sink further down on her fingers and wail into the empty room.

When next you know yourself she’s sliding her hand free, making your legs twitch as every blazing nerve begs for reprieve. She lands gracefully on her back beside you and tugs you closer until you’re half lying on her. Gentle hands stroke the lengths of your bound arms, her lips fastened to your sweat-slick temple.

“Well done, my love.” She wipes tears you didn’t know you were shedding from the sore skin of your cheek. “Thank you for that. You were wonderful.”

Words are still beyond you. You settle for a soft hum of agreement and tangle your legs with hers, nuzzling deeper into her blouse to greedily breathe in the opium scent of her perfume.

Her fingers trail over your naked shoulder, landing on the deep bruise she’s left with her mouth. She pokes it and you whine. “Oh, shush,” she admonishes, but she soothes the spot with her fingertips. “Brutal enough for you today, darling?”

You snort. “We’ll see,” you manage to mumble against her chest. She laughs, and this time it’s deep and genuine, not the mocking chuckle she reserves for these games.

“I’ll tell you what, tomorrow we’ll take a trip to the Spanish Inquisition and pick up some new toys.”

The thrill of anticipation makes you grin and wince in equal measure. Your words are muffled by her blouse. “Promises, promises.”

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Under the Stars

Heyo friends, I’ve been in North Carolina for the past few days and I’m back with some fresh content!

Summary: Title says it all, you and Arthur have a good time under the view of the night sky ;)

Stars shone brightly across the cobalt sky, cloudless and beautiful. The warm air gently wafted around you as you stood in your backyard. It was a perfect night to relax and enjoy the sights above you.

Laying out a blanket, you knelt down and sighed contently. Last time you’d done this was when you took Arthur to the park, but that felt so long ago.

The patio door opening caught your attention, although you didn’t turn to look. The outside light switched off, removing the golden glow and bathed the grass. The rippling of the blanket only told you when Arthur sat next to you. He held out a beer bottle, and you grabbed it and took a swig.

Music played softly from the speaker you’d brought out, slow-paced and relaxing. It was near pitch black around you, though you could somewhat make out the shapes of the nearest objects. Rooftops of your neighbors’ homes while they were mostly obscured by your fence. Despite being surrounded, it felt peaceful.

You leaned onto his shoulder, feeling him wrap his arm around you. He hummed along to the song, sipping from his beer bottle occasionally. A few minutes passed by when he finally said, “This is nice.”

You nodded, turning your head to peer up at him. “It is, glad we didn’t go out tonight.”

He hummed in response, an agreement you guessed. “Shame we don’t have a campfire, that woulda been perfect.”

He was thinking back to his outlaw days. Sitting around the fire within the camp, drinking and socializing with his family members. You rubbed his thigh lightly. “We’ll do that next time, when it’s cooler out.”

“I like that idea.” He responded, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You fell into silence again, listening to the music as you occasionally sipped your beer. The stars continued to twinkle brightly, no evidence of an obstruction in sight. Your hand still idly sat on his leg, rubbing against the denim every once in a while. Even though neither of you spoke, it felt like a perfect night regardless. Comfortable in his embrace, warm and content. The beer was providing a slight buzz as evidenced by the heat that slowly crept to your face.

A slight breeze fluttered by, though significantly cooler than before. You shivered, which Arthur took notice.

“You cold?” he asked. “Want me to grab another blanket?”

“Nah,” you said, cuddling closer to him. “You’re warm enough.”

He chuckled, sitting up to shift himself. He spread his legs and opened his arms. “Come’re then.” You didn’t hesitate to crawl over, nestling yourself between him. You leaned back as he wrapped his arms around you, your back against his broad, strong chest. He placed his chin on your head. “Better?”

“Mmm, much.” You purred, snuggling even closer to him. The heat that radiated his body felt great, so comfortable that you could probably fall asleep like this. You felt his breathing, rhythmic and steady against you. His chin moved from your head, and you felt his lips against your shoulder. Soft and tender, you turned your face to press a kiss to his cheek.

He met your lips a second later, quick but linger as he pulled back. “Never get tired o’ that.”

You giggled softly, meeting his even gaze. Though dark, your eyes had adjusted to see him now. “Me neither.” You agreed, and leaned in to kiss him again. He responded eagerly, his hand gently cupping your cheek to hold you to it. Sweet at first, he prompted to deepen it after a moment. His mouth moving against yours warmed you up even more, his hot breath mixing with yours. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, his fingers entangling within your hair.

He shifted slightly, enough for a hard line to make its presence known against your lower back. It wasn’t surprising to say the least, yet you pulled back, unable to hide the smirk on your lips. “Getting excited?”

He ducked his head slightly. If it weren’t dark, you’d most likely see the color blooming on his cheeks. “Uh- sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you cooed, reaching down in between your bodies to palm him gently. This earned a soft grunt from him, low and quiet. “I can take care of it.” Before he could respond, you unbuckled his belt, quick to unzip his jeans just seconds later.

“Out here?” he murmured, surprise in his voice. “What if someone hears?”

“We’ll be quiet.” You assured, slipping your hand inside his boxers. Your fingers finding purchase on his hard length. You heard his breath hitch.

“Shit…” he groaned.

Wrapping your hand around him, you pulled him free of his confinements, smoothly pumping up and down. Almost instantly, you felt his entire body relax. The one arm still wrapped around you was tight, however. You maneuvered yourself to kneel in front of him, and he leaned back to allow better access.

With free roam now, you leaned down to kiss the tip. Hot and hard against your lips, it twitched from your touch. Giving him a few teasing sucks, you slowly engulfed the rest of him.

“Y/N…” he moaned quietly, his hand taking its place on your head once again. “Fuck…”

You bobbed your head slowly, pressing your tongue against the large vein that sat on the underside. His fingers gripped your hair at that, a quick exhalation as he tried not to moan louder than the music that still played.

His hand pressed, allowing you to take more. His hips tensed underneath, willing himself not to buck into your mouth. You listened to his low groans, his utterance of your name. It pleased you, the sensation making itself known within your core.

He bucked slightly, a momentary loss of control. You kept yourself still, feeling him hit the back of your throat. He stammered out an apology, though you didn’t mind. You pulled your lips back to the tip, and then engulfed as much as you could.

The gasp he gave was worth it.

You deep throated him again, his moans like a melody to your ears. He twitched within your mouth, the restrain he had was fading slowly. You were careful, slow despite how much pressure he was placing on your head.

It wasn’t long until he spoke again, his breath disjointed. “S-stop.”

You sat up immediately, feeling confused. Had you crossed the line? Was he too uncomfortable out here? Did he want-

Your thought was cut short when his hands locked your face, his lips immediately meeting yours. Rough and urgent, you complied, nearly falling limp in his grip. In between kisses, he growled, “Fuck me, princess.”

You grinned widely. Even in the dimness you could see that gleam in his eye. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Moving his hands from your face, he gripped your pants to smoothly pull them off, your panties soon following. With your lower half exposed in the cool night air, you took care to straddle him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you placed one hand on his shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock to guide toward your entrance. Teasingly, you rubbed the tip against your lower lips. His body rumbled with a quiet moan.

“Darlin’…” he rumbled, gripping the fabric of your shirt.

You sunk onto him slowly, your walls squeezing him as his width deliciously filled you. He bucked up those last few inches, burying himself to the hilt as you bit back a yelp. Afterward, your movement was immediate. Your hips rolled effortlessly against him with a steady rhythm. He groaned with satisfaction, the grip on your waist tightening.

You kept focus on your breathing, steady as you kept your voice low. Even though your movement was slow, the pleasure took hold of your body all the same. Your pace only quickened, him thrusting in tune with you.

His lips found the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your cool skin. He gently nipped and kissed along your pulse point. Your fingers ran through his slicked back hair, feeling his soft locks. His name graced your lips in a whisper. The movement he placed within you was small, though smoothing against your sweet spot to enhance your own ecstasy.

Your own name touched your skin, deep and quiet, yet strong. Even though you were on top of him, you felt completely malleable in his arms. He pulled you closer, your stomach flat against his chest. A cool hand left your back to lift your shirt. Goosebumps erupted where his fingers brushed, leaving a tingling trail up to your breasts. He effortlessly pushed the soft cup aside to expose a nipple, puckered once open to the air. His rough touch was gentle as he toyed with you, seeking your reaction. You bit your lip, a shudder traveling through your being. A slight whine escaped you, and you caught the smirk that played on his lips.

“That feel good, princess?” He murmured.

“Yes…” you sighed, your hands tirelessly toying with his hair. “Arthur…”

He hummed lowly, and then spoke again. “Say it again.”

You didn’t have to ask what; he suddenly laid you on the blanket, your legs still wrapped around as he gripped your hips and pounded into you with a sharp force.

You gasped his name out loud, your voice shaking from the abrupt yet amazing change. His movement didn’t cease; continuously driving deep within your core.

You found it hard to keep your voice low, staring at the bright stars as you called your pleasure out to them. Arthur was relentless with you, such a complete turnaround from his attitude earlier. You wanted to remind him of what you said before, though the fire that built in your veins was too much for you to form coherent thought.

He paused, leaning over to gaze into your eyes, or attempting to. You could see the faint features of his face, the look of absolute love etched into it. You felt his hand sneak down your torso, easily locating your nub. With his thrusts slow and deep, intensifying the ground-shaking feeling that took a hold of you. Peak on the rise, your arms locked around his neck tightly as you called his name a third time.

The way your muscles tightened gave him a clue. You needn’t have to say it to him, he murmured deeply to let you release it, to let him feel it. The sultry, powerful tone that sent a shudder down your spine. That moment hit, your orgasm cascading as you let out a long moan. He praised you, riding it out as he rolled your hips against yours, drawing the last bit out of you until you felt like a puddle underneath him.

“That’s my girl…” he drawled, pulling you into a kiss. Your lips were sloppy, your body trembling from the recovery. He didn’t skip a beat, pumping to a rhythm as the last of your swell wore off. The fabric of his shirt bunched underneath your fingers as you dragged them down his solid back. Muscles shuddered from your touch, a deep groan eliciting from him. “I’m close.”

Your only response was a squeal when his thrusts became rougher, faster, dragging the overstimulation out of you. He kept you tight underneath him as your body wriggled. His breath was the only sound filling your ears, drowning the music that still played.

With one final thrust, his hips quivering as he spilled his seed into you. His chest rumbled with a deep groan that sounded almost animalistic. He held you close, giving a shallow, tiny thrust followed before he pulled out. “Fuck…” He murmured breathlessly.

You peered up at him, feeling his hot breath hit your face. You smoothed back some stray hairs, smiling up at his face. Even though the night surrounded you, you swore you could see the stars reflected in those baby blues of his. He kissed you tenderly, his hand resting on your cheek.

After a moment of sweet silence, he released you. “So much for being quiet.” You giggled.

He chuckled in response, rolling to the side but not hesitating to wrap his arms around you once again. “I thought we were doin’ pretty good.”

“I would hope so,” you murmured. “Or else it’ll be one awkward conversation with the old lady next door.”

At that, Arthur let out a hearty guffaw.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

Dreaming: Dazed and Confused (also on 9L)  Chapter 1 can be found here.

No one knew how the group of walkers had entered Alexandria; the walls still stood fortified, the gates locked, the ladders teepee’d against the lookouts only from the inside (though they’d had yet to see a walker that could climb one).

The screams from outside had Daryl grabbing up his bow and running out of the barn, where he’d been feeding and brushing down the horses, to see walkers dispersing around the neighborhood: ambling up the street, across lawns, and in between houses.

“Daryl. Daryl!”

Judith’s screams sent ice water through his veins, and he swung around to see her across the street and two houses down, katana wielded against five oncoming walkers, RJ standing terrified behind her.

He set out in a dead run, easily avoiding the few walkers that angled towards him in an attempt to reach her faster. He had to protect them!

Judy sliced the leg of one walker, then took it out when it fell down before her just as he arrived, kicking one of the undead to the ground while stabbing at another.

He found his place just in front of her, beside her, as they took out the few remaining undead, RJ still cowering behind them. In his peripheral, he saw others fighting throughout the block, Eugene, Rosita, Gabriel, Jerry, and others who’d progressively gotten better at fighting.

As the last walker fell, he turned and dropped to his knees in front of the kids, his hands gripping their shoulders, eyes roaming them for cuts or bites. “You alright?” he heaved, terrified one of them had gotten hurt.

“I’m okay,” Judith assured him, her hand gripping his arm. “RJ is too.”

“You sure?” He had to be certain, his expert eyes still checking their small forms.

“Yeah. No one got us.”

He didn’t see any wounds or blood, and finally he looked into Judy’s eyes. She gave him that assured smile no kid, especially one her age, should have. He sighed in relief, then stood and looked around them.

The walkers that had roamed the streets all lay dead. “Everyone alright?” he called to Gabriel.

“I think so.”

His eyes swept up and down the block, nearly everyone accounted for. Except Carol.

“You seen Carol?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s the next block over?”

Daryl turned back to the kids. “D’you see Carol?”

Judith shook her head, fear beginning to bloom on her face. “Not since this morning.”

“Take RJ and go inside,” he commanded, pointing to the clinic next door. “Stay in there with Coco until I come get you.”

Judy nodded and herded RJ quickly towards the neighboring building, and Daryl took off running.

It’d all happened so fast he hadn’t had a chance to find her, keep an eye out for her. Where was she? He’d seen her this morning; they’d had breakfast together, him chopping, her cooking, the two of them moving fluidly around each other in a dance they’d perfected over the years. Sometimes he couldn’t believe she’d come back to Alexandria nearly a year ago. They’d grown closer than they’d even been all those years ago at the prison. Sometimes she looked at him and he felt naked under her gaze, his feelings laid bare, as if she could read his mind, play the strings of his heart. He both hated and loved it—it was a sensation no one else on this Earth had ever come close to eliciting in him.

He had to find her.

He called her name every couple of strides, asking those he passed if they’d seen her. No one had. He ran faster towards the next block, but no one could recall seeing Carol during the fray.

Feeling frantic, heart pounding, fear coursing through his veins faster than a freight train, he ran towards home and bounded up the stairs and inside. He couldn’t consider that she hadn’t made it, that something had happened to her. What if he never got a chance to see her smiling again, watch her eyes light up with mirth at some double entendre that she threw his way, touch her face or hug her during one of those precious moments when the world seemed to stand still, the air around them held them cocooned in its embrace like a breath of heaven?

He shook his head as he moved through the house, finding no signs of her. He doubted she could’ve heard the commotion outside and not joined the fray—it wasn’t like her at all. She’d always jumped right in, the need to protect her family overriding even the instinct of self-preservation.

He made his way upstairs and headed towards her closed bedroom door.

“Carol?” he called as he threw open the door and came to an abrupt halt.

He should’ve knocked. Should’ve made more noise as he ascended the stairs, stomped along the hallway, even slammed the front door. Anything that would’ve prevented him from walking in on the sight before him.

Ezekiel sat on the bed, Carol standing between his knees, his hands on her hips holding her in place. His unexpected entrance had them both staring at him in stunned silence. Though both were fully clothed, he’d interrupted something he never wished to see: Carol in the arms of another man.

Heat flooded his body, a burning fire of searing pain and shame. If they hadn’t been staring at him, he’d have doubled over, his body betraying him as his heart cleaved in two. As it stood, he needed to move, retreat, bleach the scene from his eyes, expunge this moment from his mind.

Even as he shuffled backwards, he knew it’d never leave him.

He stared at the floor, withdrawing with a small, mumbled “sorry,” and closed the door behind him.

Daryl watched his feet move. They took him down the stairs and out the back door, through the yard and down the block. And every step took him farther away from something he’d thought he could have but never believed himself worthy of: Carol.

He felt numb, disconnected from the world around him, his throat tight, making breathing difficult, but somehow his feet kept moving, taking him farther away from her, from the tryst he’d never thought would occur, not since she’d decided to leave the Kingdom.

How could he have thought he had a chance? How could he ever compare to the king that’d given her a kingdom, safety, a family for longer than any of them had ever had? What made him think she’d consider him as a companion for even a second?

“Daryl.”

He heard a voice calling to him, but he couldn’t make his feet stop. They kept propelling him forward, away from what lay behind him, the movement the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the ground.

“Daryl.”

He shook his head, wishing the voice would go away and leave him to nurse the hollow ache in his chest.

“Daryl!”

He came to, turning over onto his back, the fog of sleep slowly leaving him. Opening his eyes, he startled, immediately reaching for the knife on the coffee table before realizing it was Carol standing next to him.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she greeted, a small smile on her face. “You musta been dreaming of something good. I called you a bunch of times.”

He cleared his throat, unsure how to respond. Though the dream—nightmare, he corrected himself—had ended, the emotions roiling through him still felt like a hurricane.

Falling back onto the couch, he stared up at her blankly. “What’s goin’ on?”

His voice sounded gravelly and harsh, the frustration from his nightmare following him into reality.

She chuckled at his cranky nature. “You’ve got kiddo duty in a bit. I’m on wall watch. Come on,” she encouraged, her hand on his foot shaking his leg as she walked away. “Up and at ‘em, Grumpy.”

He sighed as she started up the stairs without looking back, and he eased himself up into a sitting position, dropping his head into his hands.

It’s not real, he told himself, relieved yet somehow still heartsick. No matter that the walls hadn’t actually been breached or that Judy and RJ hadn’t almost been killed by walkers or that Carol wasn’t finding comfort in the arms of her ex-king. The feeling of loss, of an abandonment he had no right feeling, of heartache still sat like an anvil in his chest, weighty and obstructive and causing irreparable damage.

At least Carol had watch duty today. It’d give him some time to get his emotions under control, to understand what the hell was happening with him.

They’d lived together—and apart—for years, and he’d never had a dream—nightmare, damn it—like this or had such a strong reaction to the idea of Carol and the king.

Sure…he’d ended up living in the woods after the bridge, the funeral that followed, and Carol’s decision to move to the Kingdom to be with its annoying-as-hell leader. But even then he’d felt more…numb than stricken, longed for solitude more than companionship.

What the hell kind of new territory was this?

Though his bones felt heavy, his heart still aching from the heartrending vision that wouldn’t leave his mind, he forced himself to his feet. He needed to focus on the task at hand: the kids would be a handful. He didn’t have time to deal with confusing emotions from a damn dream.

Stretching his arms up to the sky, he tried to push the hurt from his mind, ignore the agonizing sear across his heart, and started up the stairs to face the day.

Forever tag list: @billhadecr @madwomanlexie @mel-loves-all @queenohair187 @memcjo @watashi-no-kitsunegari @archersqueen  Message me to be added or removed.

[twstdreams]

Nightmare request! Literally! How would Jamil, Leona, Floyd, Azul, and Riddle react to having a nightmare where their love was brutally killed in front of them only to wake up and see them sleeping (or awake) beside them? You can format it however you like 🎃 Happy Halloween Thank you

This is only vaguely Halloween related but I’m pretty sure you requested this before but I unfortunately deleted it. So in respect for your gusto and that you’ve probably waited months for me specifically to complete this request, I’ll definitely do it. 🥀

Warning: death, blood, violence, broken bones, hanahaki, suffocation, drowning, bruises, poison

Jamil Viper

The nightmare is horridly vivid. You lay in front of him, poisoned and slowly bleeding to death from some unknown stab wound, and he’s chained and unable to do anything but watch as the life leaves your eyes

Such vicious words escape your mouth, pleas to save your life, painful accusations, and eventually just groans of pain

The background is out of focus but the moonlight illuminates your face contorted in pain, the sickly colour of your skin

He awakes slightly disoriented, the moon still gently glowing on your visage but instead of hair caked with blood and glistening tears, you sleep peacefully. Your hair is a little mused and there may or may not be a spot of drool, but no harms as befell you

Jamil knows this is real. When his nails bite into his palm, the pain keeps him grounded. The details of the room are crisp. He goes over a mental checklist one by one to prove to himself he is no longer trapped in a nightmare

Jamil gently grabs your wrist with fingers hovering over your pulse to feel your blood flowing. He has to press a little into your wrist, you’re so deep in your sleep that your heart rate has slowed down, unlike his own that continues to be erratic until he finally feels your pulse that assures him you’re alive

It feels like hours pass like this, Jamil attentively watching you dream, until he falls asleep to feeling of your constant pulse as he clutches your wrist 

Leona Kingscholar

Farena turns you to sand. Leona doesn’t know how it’s possible. That’s his unique magic, not Farena’s. But like everything precious in his life, it is handed to Farena and his bloodline, not Leona

And you, someone who is finally his and his alone, no strings attached or specific clauses to keep you in his grasp are too taken away 

Leona can see it. The horror that paints your face. The panicked shrieking as you try to defy fate but crumble to pieces anyway. He swears he can feel the grains of sand that used to make up his lover

Now he has nothing. Not king of his land or your heart. An anguished roar erupts from his throat until it hurts, but never as much as the loss of you

His eyes snaps open and he intakes a sharp breath of air, trying to adjust to his new surroundings. 

Instead of sand whipping in every direction, he inhales clean air. Instead of your screams permeating the air, at most he hears some bugs chirping. Instead of clumps of sand, you lay beside him underneath crumpled blankets

Without thought, Leona pulls you into his arms. Your solid form reassures him that you are real and alive. He snuggles you into his chest and keeps you close, caging you in his embrace with strong arms that may or not have quivered slightly when he first made sure you were okay 

He feels your body, its warmth, the way your chest raises and falls as your breathe, little puffs of air, all these little signs let him know you’re well

Floyd Leech

Open fractures, moulted bruises, bleeding cuts, there are so many injuries Floyd doesn’t even know how to start. Every injury he’s ever inflicted appears on your body and when those cease, even more begin to harm your battered body.

The perpetrator is a frustrating shadow that Floyd can never get a grip on

He gives up chasing the culprit and cradles your body in his arms, ready to run or swim any distance to get you the medical treatment you need, when he notices your lack of response

No matter how many times Floyd calls out, the light squeeze of your arm, nothing gets you to open your eyes. How could you? The dead don’t move

Without hesitation, the second Floyd has his bearings, he is squeezing you so tight. With your body so tightly pressed against his, he can confirm that your body is safe and not oozing blood. All your bones feel solid when he pulls you so close to him it feels like he’s trying to smush the two of you together

There’s no way you don’t wake up from either being jostled, crushed, or perhaps even slight suffocation. Even your legs are tangled with his at this point

“Give me a hug back~” he whines and at this rate you decide to comply and ask questions letter

Soft mutterings pass through your lips and the occasional reassurance as you try to remove the fog in your sleepy brain

Floyd wants to feel you alive next to him and the pressure of a hug that you return, like how only the living can

If you placate him with a flurry of kisses, you might just get to fall asleep with some breathing room

Azul Ashengrotto

You’re drowning in the ocean. Azul can see your limbs flailing about as you feebly try to climb upwards but you’re leagues below the surface and you’ll never make it in time

He hurls spell after spell your way but none of them reach you. He swims frantically but it’s never fast enough. He watches the stream of bubbles escaping your mouth and nose continue to decrease in size until there is nothing left. 

Your limbs still. Your expression is dull. Your body feels cold by the time he cradles your corpse in his tentacles. 

When Azul awakes, it’s with a sharp gasp as he searches the room for you. Immediately he wraps all his limbs around your form

You’re jolted from your sleep to the feeling of Azul clutching on a little too tightly

Squeeze him back, remind him that you’re alive and well, whisper sweet words to lull him back to the present

Azul knows you’re okay. The warmth that radiates from your body, your soft sentences that wash over him like gentle waves, the sleepy smile you give him, but somewhere in the back of his head a little voice whispers that it’s all an illusion 

A soft kiss on the lips lets him know that you’re real

Riddle Rosehearts

You’re gasping for air, eyes wide, wheezing but holding onto him so painfully tight. Roses bloom and their thorns pierce your throat.

He can see the bud begin to blossom in your mouth, obstructing your airway. Riddle casts spell after spell, trying to reduce the thorns, perhaps wilting the flower but nothing stops its growth

Your chocked breaths cease and you go limp in his arms. As you eyes finally close, you turn into petals and disappear

Riddle awakes, frazzled and worried. He counts to ten to try and calm his mind.

He checks you’re alive, needing proof to assure that horrid dream is all but gone. Riddle feels the pulse in your neck, checks there are no injuries, hovers right above your face to hear your breath. He’s not even gentle, too consumed with anxiety and looming fears

It stirs you awake. You’re not sure what’s happening but his distressed expression prompts you to give him a hug 

“You dying on me is against the rules,” Riddle murmurs while falling into your embrace

“I’d never abandon you like that,” you promise  and place his hand over your heart to prove you’re alive

You place soft kisses on his forehead and drift off to sleep as he focuses on the sound of your heartbeat.

[snazzysickly]

Relaxed evening (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

Summary: You’ve notice Arthur been stressed lately, and decide to relax him

Warnings: Smut, just pure smut, and a bit of fluff at the end

word count: 1,564

Tagging: @tropfenlady (don’t worry babe, I got you)

A/n: I love sub Arthur so I made some smut for it. And why is sex hard to write??? Anyway, its been awhile since I’ve written smut so I’m sorry, but I hope you enjoy

After weeks of Arthur executing Dutch’s plan, you’ve noticed how he looses his temper at the smallest things, how tense his muscles look, and how most nights are sleepless. It was clear that Arthur Morgan was stressed, you decide that if Arthur isn’t going to take care of himself, you will. So, on an evening that Arthur isn’t busy, you take him to the nicest bar in Saint Denis.

After a warm meal and a couple of shots, you ask for a bath and a room, giving the bartender a couple dollars before leading Arthur up the stairs. Shoving him through the door of the baths, you tell him not to take too long, then you slam the door shut before he gets to reply.

You start to undress in preparation for when Arthur gets out of the bath. Earlier today, you went to the tailor to buy new undergarments for tonight. You decided to buy a lace-trimmed union suit. The garment cost a pretty penny, but you were sure that Arthur’s reaction would be worth it.

You lay on the soft bed, reading a book until Arthur gets out of the bath. Once he enters the room, you look up from your book and notice he’s wearing pants and his grey union suit, his hat atop his head.

“Howdy, cowboy.” You say, putting your book on the bedside table, and sitting up.

He looks up and notices you, taking in your figure for a second before a blush blooms across his handsome face. He adverts his eyes, using his hat to cover his red face.

“I didn’t know you weren’t decent, I’ll see myself out-”

“Arthur, you’ve seen me completely nude, don’t give me that.” You sass, putting your hand on your hips, stopping him from opening the door and leaving.

“Come here big boy.” You invite him.

Slowly, but eagerly he walks towards you, still using his hat to obstruct most of his face. He sits on the edge of the bed and you crawl behind him. You first give a small peck to Arthur’s neck, then you start rubbing his shoulders, making sure to get the knots. Arthur groans, the beautiful sound making your core spark to life.

You work your hands around his body, messaging his tense body, the heavenly sounds he makes, gets you thinking of all the dirty things you plan on doing to him.

You get up from the bed and stand in front of him. Slowly you lean down, unbuttoning his pants and sliding them off his body. Then you unbutton his tight union suit, slowing your movements when you reach his hard on. Eventually you slide off his union suit and he sits naked in front of you, in all his glory. Dropping to your knees, you start massaging his legs, completely avoiding the place where he wants you. He groans when you rub a certain tight muscle in his thigh.

You start leaving wet kisses along his inner thighs. He bucks his hips, trying to get some sort of friction. You put your hands on his hip, keeping him from bucking up again.

“Y/n, please.” He moans when you nip his thighs.

“Fine, be a good boy now.” You slowly bring your face away from his thighs to his throbbing cock. You stick your tongue out and lick the slit of his tip. He moans lightly and you wrap your lips around the swollen tip and suck lightly. Relaxing your throat, you slowly take his length into your mouth, using your hand to pump anything you couldn’t fit. Arthur’s moans are music to your ears and you try to take more of him, just to here his sweet sounds.

“Jesus Y/n.” He moans, throwing his head back. His hips buck into your mouth involuntarily, making you gag. You jerk your head up, just to move back down. Arthur grabs your head and thrusts his hips into your mouth. You happily gag down his cock as he swears and moans.

You rub your thighs together, eager to get on top of the huge man. Arthur’s hips stutter and you can tell he’s getting close. You luckily pull away from him in the lick of time.

“I was so close.” He whines.

“We can’t have you coming just yet, we have a whole night ahead of us. Now, be a good boy and lay down.” Arthur senses your demanding tone and obediently lays on the soft bed. He watches as you slowly strip out of your undergarments, teasing him with a shake of your ass.

You climb atop of Arthur, lowering yourself onto Arthur’s face. He grabs your hips and harshly pulls you down, quickly lapping at your wetness. You gasp at the sudden attention and grind your hips on his face. Using two fingers he plays with your clit, eliciting a moan from your lips. Your hands go to your breasts, kneeing them and tweaking your nipples.

“You’re so good Arthur.” You praise him.

He moves his fingers away from your clit and to your slit. Arthur rubs his fingers along it, teasing you. One call to his name and he stops teasing, pushing his thick fingers inside you. Cursing, you buck your hips, enjoying the waves of pleasure Arthur brings you.

He thrusts his fingers gently, watching your face twist to one of pleasure. It only fuels him more. You feel your orgasm building as Arthur sucks your clit.

“I’m close Arthur!” You manage to moan out, he thrusts his fingers harder into you, never have you had someone eat you out as well as Arthur has.

“Cum for me.”

As if on queue, you throw your head back, releasing on Arthur’s fingers, your vision going black. Arthur slowly removes his fingers your juices covered them. You watch as he brings his fingers to his lips, seductively sucking on them.

You sit on Arthur’s stomach, coming down from your high, and immediately feel his hard cock against your ass. You crane your head, looking at his cock. The tip is red and leaking from lack of attention.

“You’ve been a good boy, Arthur Morgan, ready for your reward?” You tease, rubbing your ass against him.

“Shit-yes.” He groans, closing his eyes.

With one of your hands, you grabs his dick and squeeze lightly, causing him to buck his hips into your hand. You giggle and align yourself on him. Inch by inch, you lower yourself onto him, once you bottom out and relax on him, Arthur grabs your hips, trying to thrust into you. You tisk and remove his hands from your hips, and hold them over his head.

“Be a good boy now.” You whisper into his ear, keeping his arms in place. You nip his ear and give him soft pecks on his face until you reach his lips.

Your lips intertwine in a feverish kiss, you both fight for dominance. While kissing, you slowly start rocking your hips, enjoying the feeling of fullness that Arthur gives you. Arthur moans into the kiss, and you pull away from his lips, smirking at his half lidded eyes.

Slowly, you start bouncing on his dick, making sure that you tease him. Arthur tries to buck his hips up, but one sharp glare stops him.

“Please Y/n.” Arthur begs you. Looking into his lust filled eyes, you smile innocently. You love watching Arthur loose his mind because of you. He gets completely lost in the pleasure and nothing turns you on more than that.

Your hold on Arthur’s hand loosens until you let go completely, he’s hands immediately starts roaming your body. One hand cups your breasts and one on your hip, tugging you forward.

Finally, you bounce on him quickly, shoots of pleasure going through both of you. Arthur’s a bit hesitant to thrust into you, but when he does, you don’t stop him.

With this, he thrusts roughly and hungrily. You moan and put your hands on his stomach in front of you, supporting yourself.

With each and every thrust, you could feel the familiar feeling of your release building. Arthur puts his hands on your ass and pulls you towards him while still thrusting into you.

“Arthur! I’m-” You interrupt yourself when you come down on him for the second time this evening. Your eyes go wide and a pornographic moan comes out of you.

Although you’ve finished, Arthur wasn’t done. With a grunt, he holds your hips down and continues pounding into you, he knows he’s almost finished as well, but he squeezes every ounce of pleasure out of you that he can.

His moans get louder and his thrusts get shakier, until he thrust himself deep inside you, coming undone and spilling he seed inside you.

Without Arthur holding you up, you let your head fall onto Arthur’s chest, your hair falls onto your face but you could care less. He wraps his warm arms around your sweaty body and holds you there until you pull yourself off of Arthur’s cock, his cum runs down your leg, but by now your eyes are drooping and you can feel the sleep start to envelop you. Before you completely drift off, you mumble an ‘I love you’ to Arthur. He says it back to you, in an equally sleepily voice, you fall asleep on him with a content smile on your face.

[zayashmaya]

Gods and Monsters - 7 - Love.

Marvus x Reader ll Tagora x Reader; SFWish (mention of pailing in the beginning)

More chapters here!

You meet Marvus’s lusus, and Tagora handles you in typical Tagora fashion.

this chapter was inspired by the most magnificent set of tweets to ever exist, as well as my partner in crime @compositecreature :3

Look at you kids, you know you're the coolest 

The world is yours and you can't refuse it 

Seen so much, you could get the blues 

But that don't mean that you should abuse it 

Though it's enough just to make you go crazy, crazy, crazy 

But you get ready, you get all dressed up 

To go nowhere in particular 

Back to work or the coffee shop It don't matter because it's enough 

To be young and in love

- Lana Del Rey

Bathtime was calling for your filthy body.

You had been eager to see the ocean, but something steered you towards sleep instead. The night had been rife with cat-fights and debauchery, and when you caught a glimpse of the enormous ablution trap, you were hit with a wave of exhaustion that drained you of any motivation to visit the beach.

Marvus was busying himself with removing his jewelry while you turned on the shower spray, letting the water heat up on its own as you padded over to him. You took it upon yourself to wet a nearby wash cloth with the intention to clean off his facepaint. As you stood on your tip toes and struggled to reach over the sink, Marvus grinned and taunted you for your height.

“Ain’t got no ladders round here babe, u gonna b climbin me like a tree to get anywhere.”

“Hilarious. How’s the weather up there, by the way?”

“Feelin a lil chilly axxually, mite need a warm rusty to help me w dat.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, wringing out excess water from the cloth. Marvus looked down at you with a teasing smirk, and it might have looked attractive if not for the comical mess on his face.

“You look like an abstract painting,” you snarked and patted the countertop. “Get me up on here so I can clean that paint off you.”

Marvus quirked a brow at your command, yet obliged you all the same, sitting you down before him and patiently letting you run the wet cloth along his face. You dug your fingers into his mussed up hair to keep it out of the way, focusing diligently on your task while Marvus watched you with amusement.

The paint gradually gave way to neutral gray, and even his eyebrows darkened to their natural black color. You finished off your task with one last swipe along the long, graceful arch of his nose, silently admiring how long his lashes appeared while he kept his eyes closed.

You realized you were staring, much to your embarrassment.

“All done,” you weakly said, tossing the dirtied cloth into the sink, scooting closer to the edge of the countertop in preparation for absconding from this intimate proximity, until you noticed the dark circles under his eyes. You reached out to run a thumb along the evidence of his exhaustion. “Look at this … don’t tell me you’re overworking yourself."

A flash of hesitation flashed across his face. Yet it was gone as quick as it had appeared, replaced with his normal easygoing demeanor. He gently grasped your wrist and moved your questing touch away. “Ain’t nethin to worry bout,” he said, pressing a kiss to your fingertips.

“Liar,” you asserted, stubbornly glaring at him. “I got rid of the facepaint, and yet it seems you’re still hiding behind a mask. You’re lying, and I know it.”

Yet again you managed to shock him into a state of silence, his eyes wide and focused on you during your short tirade. “Damn mama u rly gunna roast me like that?”

“Damn straight.” You took back your hand and crossed your arms, entirely unintimidated by how much larger than you he still was, his arms on either side of you as he leaned over you. “If that’s what it takes to get some honesty out of you.”

“Whoaaa, i don’t remember the last time sumone talked to me this way. 'Specially not a lowblood.” His hands found their way to your hips, and he grinned at you with hooded eyes. “Dat shit b hot, like some kinda pale porn feelz jam. U gettin freaky w me rite now, babe?”

You covered your eyes momentarily and sighed. “No, Marvus. This isn’t a solicitation.”

“Aww :o( “

“Look, all I’m saying is, I notice these things about you. And if there’s no one around to tell you to take better care of yourself, then it may as well be me.”

“Oooh? ;o) “

”Not pale porn.”

“Now who b lyin … “

You were starting to feel a blush bloom across your cheeks. “What did I say about teasing me?” you murmured, bashfully looking away while he pulled you closer to him. With his handsome sculpted body in sight, you were quickly reminded that a platonic relationship with Marvus was out of the question. “Besides,” you continued, sliding your hands up the wide expanse of his chest towards his neck to tilt his face towards you. “ — would a moirail do this?”

You brought him down to your level and planted your lips on his, coaxing his mouth open with a teasing lick as he hummed into the kiss. He effortlessly gathered you in his arms while you made out and brought you both under the running shower spray, reluctantly letting you break off the kiss when you reminded him that you were still filthy.

Everything had been chaste enough, for the first few minutes. You managed to get your hair rinsed and pointedly avoided staring at Marvus’s gorgeous body. The same could not be said for him, however. It all started with his hip bumping against yours as he reached over to grab a bottle, and an offer to help you wash off with something that looked like a mix of a giant beetle and a loofa.

Innocent touches soon led to full-blown groping — you just knew Marvus wouldn’t be able to resist — and eventually you found yourself pressed up against the shower wall with his bulge pumping slowly into your sensitive cunt, overstimulated and yet still craving more of him.

By the time you were clean and swaying on your feet like a sleep-deprived child, Marvus had insisted you stay for the night — or rather, the day — and you couldn’t find the energy to fight him on his impeccable hospitality. So you thanked him with a tired smile and huddled up in the corner of the couch, adorned with a fluffy towel and ready to pass out the moment your head hit the cushion. But Marvus crouched down in front of you with a stupefied expression, and asked, "The fxxk ya doin, baby?”

“Um … going to sleep?”

He blinked at you, still not understanding. “Iz dis a human thang? Sleepin on a couch?”

“Technically we sleep on beds — not that you’d know what that is.”

“Well i ain’t got any o that shiz but i got a slammin cocoon so.” You let out a startled yelp as he scooped you up in his arms. “U coming w me, lil mama.”

And that was how you ended up falling asleep atop Marvus’s very inviting bosom, smiling contently as the sopor slime soothed your aches away.

-

Marvus had a busy schedule the following day, so unfortunately he was gone by the time you woke up. You blearily rubbed your eyes and stretched, letting loose all the tension in your frame as you looked out to see the sun’s last rays disappearing behind the horizon. Seems like he really doesn’t get that much rest if leaving before sundown was a regular thing for him.

You took a quick moment to freshen up in the bathroom, and after one final glance at the painting tainted with Marvus’s genetic material, you began lazily scooping up your scattered clothing and redressed. The weight of your palmhusk stashed away in a discrete pocket reminded you to check your messages, and sure enough, you had quite a few of them.

Stelsa had texted you about her safe return last night as promised, Chixie hit you up with an invite to a show later, and Marvus sent his apologies for not being able to stick around.

— couldn’t wake u up cuz u were lookin too cute but there’s food downstairs if u want

— n i got a guy parked outside to take u anywhere

— b seein u sumtime soon bby thx fr the amazing time ;o)

You smiled shyly to yourself, hoping that he truly wanted to see you again.

Your good mood promptly disappeared when you realized you had several texts and missed calls from Tagora. You knew exactly what he wanted from you, and you were too hungry to deal with it right now.

Stashing away your palmhusk for later, you made your way downstairs and spent a few minutes looking around the spacious floor for the kitchen. The clicks of your heels echoed through the hallway as you wandered, glancing into spare rooms and admiring the beautiful graffiti decorating the walls.

One particular room caught your eye — a shimmer of aquamarine blue in your periphery steered you inside, and you were met with a gigantic in-ground pool that curved beyond a translucent wall fixture, forming a long U-shape. To the right was a spectacular view of what you believed to be a portion of the backyard deck, the entire wall replaced with floor-to-ceiling window panes. The moonlight from outside filtered into the room, illuminating the glistening pool water to an ethereal color.

It was stunning, to say the least. You kneeled at the edge of the pool and gently dipped your fingertips into the water. The temperature was lukewarm and pleasant, stirring up the urge to take a swim. Maybe you could coerce Marvus the next time you visited his hive.

As you pondered on the future, something seemed to bump against your fingertips. You furrowed your brow and felt around for the obstruction, feeling something smooth and uniform taking shape.

The strange object pushed gently against your touch, moving higher and higher until something white emerged from the water. You quickly retracted your hand and leaned over to get a closer look —

And the water bursted upward like a geyser, splashing you as you fell back onto your ass with an indignant shriek. You protected your face with your hands and curled inward, fearing what horrors you managed to rile up in the depths of this pool.

A loud chitter soon followed, and when you lowered your shaking hands, you were suddenly face to face with a white dolphin, its razor sharp teeth on display as its gaping maw puffed air inches away from you.

You let loose a scream and scuttled backwards from the creature, losing your grip on the wet floor and careening onto your side.

The dolphin chirped at you and tilted its head as you came down from your panicked breathing. You stared back at it, wide-eyed and frozen in fear, until you realized that the beast was actually smiling at you, bobbing innocently in the water and patiently waiting for your next move.

Mirthful Messiahs, this was Marvus’s lusus!

You clambered onto hands and knees and crawled back to the dolphin, hoping you looked every bit as pathetic as you felt. “Oh my gosh that was so rude of me I’m so sorry! It’s so nice to meet you my name is — “

You were cut off by a jovial chirp, and the lusus bumped his snout on your forehead. Thank goodness, he didn’t appear to be as horrid as Zebruh’s custodian. Judging by how kind Marvus was, you always assumed his lusus would have led by example. You giggled and carefully petted his head.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you — “ The dolphin let loose a string of eek eek eek’s and shook his head. “ — no, please, don’t be sorry, I reacted like an idiot. I’m a friend of Marvus’s, by the way! Maybe he told you already?”

“Eek eek! Eeeee!” Another nose bump, followed by a nuzzle to your cheek.

You cupped your cheek and blushed. “I’ll take that as a good sign … “ Your conversation was cut short by a low grumbling, and you peevishly smiled. “Do you mind pointing me to the kitchen? I accidentally wandered in here because I got lost.”

The lusus nodded, and instead of tipping his head toward a direction, he slowly emerged from the water’s depths. You stood up and backed away to give him some room, and you nearly gasped at how enormous he was. Sure enough, the lusus was a dolphin, and yet he sported a pair of dinosaur-like back legs that allowed him to stand upright, trailing his tail behind him as he offered a flipper to you.

You smiled gratefully and held onto the proffered flipper as the lusus led you out of the room, stopping briefly for a moment so he could show you were the spare towels were stored away. You grabbed one on the way out and wiped yourself down as you let him guide you, eyeing the trail of water the lusus left in his wake and wondered if it was okay to leave it all over the floor like that.

The kitchen was as grand as the rest of the hive, a circular space with a towering ceiling from which hung a massive chandelier, its multicolored crystalline lights casting rainbow beams everywhere they could. Everything was as large as Marvus said it would be, but thankfully his lusus caught on to your short stature, and took over the task of getting you well-fed. Within minutes you had a whole five course meal set out in front of you at the table, and you couldn’t stop thanking the kind dolphin with tears in your eyes before he ruffled your hair with a flipper and trilled a happy tune.

When was the last time you had this much food at your disposal? Your heart swelled with love for your generous friends as you stuffed your face with questionable meats, deciding that the delicious taste outweighed their strange appearance. The lusus kept you company all the while, sitting across the table from you and chowing down on some sort of large aquatic animal laid out on a giant dish.

You spent your breakfast in amicable discussion, regaling him with tales of your adventures, your worries about the future, and your ever-growing homesickness. You don’t know why, but you felt like you could trust this dolphin with anything. In turn, he eek'd up a storm of stories about Marvus as a wiggler, and how good of a child he had been. You realized, then, how suitable a dolphin was for Marvus — his lusus chirped with as much flare and gusto as the showman, waving his flippers around and smiling all the while. Two whimsical yet powerful individuals. A match made in heaven.

Unfortunately, the time to leave had come. You didn’t want to overstay your welcome.

Marvus’s lusus seemed disappointed by your announcement, and you imagined he might feel lonely in this mansion all by himself, considering how often Marvus had to go on tour or do other work-related things. You helped the dolphin place the empty dishes by the sink and hugged him tight, marveling at how he was just as cold to the touch as Marvus was.

“I promise I’ll come visit you the next time Marvus invites me over,” you murmured into his soft belly, and you were rewarded with a pat to your head. The palmhusk vibrated in your pocket, startling you out of your hazy comfort and reminding you that you had a certain tealblood to attend to.

As the lusus waddled you over to the front door, you looked up at him and noted how sad and quiet he had gotten. “Hey,” you called out, lightly tugging on his flipper. “Why don’t we take a picture together to show Marvus we met?”

Your idea was met with joyous chirps, and as the lusus crouched down to your level, you snapped a ridiculous amount of selfies from all angles, choosing one where you were both sticking out your tongues. You sent it to Marvus and typed:

— i met your lusus, he’s so cute!!

— and he told me to tell you he says hi.

— so in his own words, i say to you, “eek eek!"

You paused and quickly added:

— i had a wonderful time last night too.

And left it at that, because as much as you wanted to pour your heart and thank him for being so selfless and understanding in light of your self-consciousness, you did not want to come off as desperate. Sometimes it had to be like that. Even with him.

-

You were settled in inside a cab as you drove straight for Tagora’s hive, scrolling through the texts he had sent you with increasing anxiety.

— Please let me know how your search goes, I’m very eager to move this case along.

— Have you found any dirt on a certain someone yet?

— Still waiting.

Those were sent last night. The more recent ones were more concerning.

— Seeing as you are not responding to me, I’m going to take that as a no.

— You disappoint me, human. Expect an exorbitant fee added to your balance for every minute you are late in texting me.

Shit. Tagora was always serious about those pesky charges. You fired off a quick ’I’m on my way!’ and spent the whole ride looking at troll memes to lighten up your mood. Tagora may be pissed at you right now, but not for long. He could never stay mad at you.

That thought replayed in your mind as you meandered up his front lawn, trying to come up with a million excuses for your tardy end of the deal. At least you managed to protect the clothes he bought you. Maybe that would cheer him up a bit.

You stared at the door and counted to ten before knocking.

Tagora opened the door just a crack, peering at you through the narrow opening. You sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay. You’re going to be upset — “ The door was swinging shut. You hastily shoved your foot through the threshold and fought to keep it open. “ — but I promise I can still make it all worth your while!”

He paused for a moment and leered at you. “How so?”

“ … gossip?”

Surprisingly, it worked. The door opened a little, and as Tagora finally got a good look at you, his peeved expression fell away to one of shock and slight revulsion, perhaps even a hint of concern. “Have you even looked at yourself today? Did you get mauled by a purrbeast?”

You smiled sheepishly and absentmindedly rubbed at a love bite on your neck. “More like I got pailed senseless by a purpleblood.”

”What? And you’re still alive?”

A chatty, questioning Tagora was a good sign. You slipped past him and wandered inside, waving at his lusus in greeting as you toed off your shoes. “This particular highblood is a good friend of mine. I’m sure you remember who he is, considering I begged you to blackmail whoever uploaded that video of him hand feeding me … “

“You pailed with Marvus Xoloto?” Tagora whirled you around and grabbed you by the shoulders, bringing his face inches away from yours. “Did you mention me?” he excitedly asked.

“In what possible context could I bring you up while getting laid? ’Oh Marvus that feels so good, by the way I happen to know a fantastic lawyer —'"

“Uuugh!” He lightly pushed you away and rolled his eyes, running a hand through his impeccable hair. “You’ll pay for giving me that horrible mental image. And furthermore, you are so damn useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you grumbled, making your way to the couch and sagging down onto it. Tagora’s lusus instantly materialized in your lap, rolling over to expose his tummy while you scratched it. “My night took a turn for the worst during the party, and after all was said and done I was feeling so shitty that I needed a distraction. I just didn’t have it in me to sleuth around for you, I’m sorry.”

Tagora eyed you quietly as though in deliberation. Maybe you looked tired and mopey, because his expression softened marginally. “Are you.” He paused. “Are you hungry?” You shook your head. “Wait here then.”

You watched him curiously while he wandered away to the bathroom. His lusus chuffed at you when you forgot to keep scratching behind his ear. “Soooorry,” you whispered to the ferret, and you were rewarded with a nuzzle to your face as he rearranged himself like a flailing noodle.

Tagora returned with a tube of neon green paste — it was a familiar sight to you by now, considering how often you were getting injured. He sat beside you and shooed his lusus away, motioning for you to turn to him. “Tell me what happened,” he ordered, squirting a dollop of paste on his hand and massaging the medicine into the bruises along your neck and shoulders.

“Well,” you said with a sigh, tilting your head to let Tagora work his magic. “I had the misfortune of stumbling upon Lanque. Or rather, he made the effort to confront me, and made me look like a fool by bringing up personal bullshit.”

“Ah, that cretin. I hope you told him off properly this time.”

“I tried … but it still sucked to have my insecurities thrown back at me out of nowhere.”

Tagora huffed. “At least you’re not the one crashing parties in search of cheap thrills. Show me where else you’re bruised.” You lifted the hem of your dress and up over your hip to reveal fingerprint shaped marks along your outer thighs. You tried your best to keep your private area covered, wishing you still had your underwear. Tagora seemed to not mind, working with detached efficiency. “And. You know. You’re the one who got lucky in the end. Although judging by how fucked up you look, ‘lucky’ is pretty subjective. Was this a pitch romp?”

“Nope, it was really sweet and fun and a hell of a lot more intimate than I expected,” you gushed, blushing at the memory. “But let’s not get side-tracked. I didn’t even tell you the worst part the night!”

“There’s more?”

“Unfortunately. So, Remele apparently had the wonderful idea of painting me as the main subject, and she auctioned it off to the highest bidder. Which thankfully turned out to be Marvus, and I’m pretty sure he did it just to spare me the embarrassment. It was so vulgar, Tagora! Like, she made me naked and cowering in an alleyway and — and covered in troll blood because she was recreating that time we got into trouble with a purpleblood and — “

Fuck. Tagora didn’t know about your and Remele’s connection to that murder. And you knew he tracked it with fervor when news first hit, trying to tie it to her earlier event.

As if on cue, his eyes widened in excitement, pupils narrowing like a predator honing in on its prey. “Wait, wait. First of all, why didn’t you tell me you were involved in such a high-profile case? And how could that conniving bitch know enough about the crime scene to portray it in such an accurate light?”

“I — um … I can’t tell you!”

“Oh you absolutely will. I think this will be more than sufficient to cover for your failure last night."

You groaned and dug your hands into your hair. “You don’t love me, Gor-Gor! You just love my drama. Is that all I am to you?” Tagora reeled back, biting his lower lip. "Just a — an associate who does dirty work for you? A henchman? A dumb, worthless human? A — “

Your freak-out was cut short when a hand gently yet firmly slapped itself onto your cheek.

You blinked and looked at Tagora. He stared right back, looking equal parts shocked and panicked. His hand was slightly cold, yet ridiculously soft.

“Oh my gods are you shooshpapping me — “

”No!” Tagora wrenched his hand away as though he had been burned. "This is strictly a platonic show of camaraderie, as evidenced by your updated fee charge right here — “ He had the nerve to pull up some sort of app on his palmhusk that tracked your debt, pointing at an absurdly high number.

You bemusedly glanced at the screen as he held it right up to your face before moving his hand out of the way. “Does that mean you’d drop your fees for a moirail?”

“I would consider it a fair trade-off in light of their services towards my mental wellbeing.”

“Hmmm.” You did have a lot of debt accrued … and you were technically just inadvertently proposed to. "Well lucky for you, you have just the right candidate for obsessing over your mental wellbeing right in front of you!”

Tagora blushed a vibrant teal and jerked away from you, stammering several times as he tried to unsuccessfully offer a rebuttal. “Th — that’s — you can’t just say that, you uncultured creature! Don’t you have any tact? Any sense of romance?”

“What do you want me to do, serenade you? Build you a nest out of the finest quality of ablution robes and drown you in expensive chocolates for luxurious feels jam sessions?”

“You are ridiculous.” He paused. “As if you could even afford any of that.”

“Are you seriously considering what I just said?"

“I never said that! The absence of evidence is not evidence in of itself!”

"What does that even mean?”

“I swear I don’t even know why I put up with you — “

“Because I’m so cute and pitiable.”

“Well, you’ve certainly got parts of that right,” he said, turning away from you in a valiant attempt to hide his blush. “You’re so pathetic it’s practically obscene. Indecent, even.”

“Is that some backhanded way of saying I’m quadrant material?”

“This conversation is over.” Excellent, hopefully he forgot about Remele. “And don’t think I’m letting that whole Remele thing go so easily.” Damn it. “But you’re clearly not in your right mind to continue that discussion, so we’ll talk about it later."

“You are so benevolent, Gor-Gor.”

“Yes, I am,” he said with a grin. The majority of your bruises had been dealt with by now, so Tagora screwed the cap back onto the tube of paste and stood up to put the medicine away.

“Tagora?” He turned to look at you with a quirked brow. “Thank you.”

He smiled lightly and nodded before going on his way. His lusus was back in your lap in no time, slipping into your waiting arms with a delighted meep. You pulled out your palmhusk and checked if you received any new messages, and sure enough, Marvus had responded to your earlier texts.

— o shit yo pops lookin happy af

— u gonna have to b comin over to keep him company now

— and maybe me 2 ;o)

You giggled and gripped your palmhusk a little tighter between both hands. Tagora glanced back at you for a split second, his smile mirroring your own.

[naopao]

Hanakotoba 花言葉

My entry for @genyattazine​, featuring art by @heronfoot​! Pre-orders are still available, so please consider purchasing! All proceeds go to charity. :)

He laughs as he cradles the flower in his hands. He cups it to his power core, several degrees hotter than his system’s recommended temperature.

Before the weight of the tiny, fragile bloom colors everything that is to come, Zenyatta’s heart soars.

Or, a Genyatta hanahaki fic.

99 percent.

Zenyatta has never seen the ocean before. The others follow Winston through the huge, salt-worn door into the watch point, but Zenyatta excuses himself to walk the cliffs.

His sensors register the mild chill (13.2 degrees Celsius) and gentle breeze (16.7 kilometers an hour), a data set, one of an endless sea that fails to account for the experience of them. The humidity (73.5 percent), dampness along his chassis, the salt in the air from the waves below (33 parts per thousand) against the sensors of his intake chamber.

“It’s so beautiful here.”

Deep, modulated, tinny from his respirator. The sound soothes Zenyatta, and the awe, the appreciation in each word, makes him fond.

“Truly.” Zenyatta replies. “You have not been here in many years. How do you feel?”

Genji falls in step next to him. Known variables: the shape of his shadow, the hues he casts, the gentle hum of his machinery, many times more advanced than Zenyatta’s own. Between one journey and the next, in the minutiae of lessons and koan and sparring matches, Zenyatta has come to find comfort in them.

“I am not sure nostalgia is the word. Being at this watch point again…” The silence between Genji’s thoughts, his mindfulness, Zenyatta also cherishes. “...is bittersweet. I was not in the right place to appreciate its beauty before.”

“What is most important is that you have a chance to experience it now.” Zenyatta hums.

“You are right as always, Master.”

The cheekiness of his tone is not lost on the omnic, who laughs.

“Not always.”

Genji steps closer to the edge of the cliff. Zenyatta turns to him as a quiet hiss muffles the distant crash of waves. Genji’s eyes are closed, his posture loose, comfortable; his chest expands as he takes in the cool, salted air, free of his respirator.

He has seen Genji many times without his helmet. It is the first time he sees him in the glow of the late afternoon sun, wind fluttering his matted hair, black with a tinge of gray. The first time he exists for a precious few seconds in the moment, without the weight of his burdens balanced on his soul.

It is a whisper. A hiccup. A gentle, blooming twist, so deep within Zenyatta he cannot identify its cause. It is not the golden warmth of the Iris, though it is warm: small, but powerful, concentrated in a drop of pure energy. It pulses like a tiny overload, one too many data sets, one too many amperes.

Only later, in the privacy of his own room, does he notice it in the mirror.

Just above his power core, nestled between the top two pistons, is a hint of bright pink. Zenyatta shifts with great care, curiosity overriding what should be fear, unease, trepidation. With gentle maneuvering, he works the obstruction from his chassis. His orbs, which had been rotating in a smooth circle around his head, still.

Grasped carefully between servos and smaller than the circle on his palm is a lotus bloom, mostly closed, petals tinged green with youth.

Zenyatta stares for several cycles. Its composition, its measurement, its fragrance, reveal nothing of its purpose. Then, as if he has skipped forward in time, he returns to himself, orbs resuming their slow orbit before settling around his throat.

He laughs as he cradles the flower in his hands. He cups it to his power core, several degrees hotter than his system’s recommended temperature.

Before the weight of the tiny, fragile bloom colors everything that is to come, Zenyatta’s heart soars.

87 percent.

Be it luck or fate, Zenyatta’s room has a balcony. It is modestly sized, outfitted with a small table and two rust-flecked chairs.

The blooms within his body are rooted deep, and even with dexterous hands, he cannot remove them from their source. Each time they are different species of flora, and Zenyatta finds a gentle, curious joy in identifying them. Lotus. Bluebells. Gardenias when Genji had fallen asleep next to him, his gentle snores rousing Zenyatta from meditation. Cactus blossoms after a morning of sparring, when Genji had removed his helmet and sweat glistened down the skin of his throat. His fans still quicken when Zenyatta remembers it, the deep-seated pulse of warmth that had no outlet—alien, terrifying, and desperately coveted. Jesse hailed to Genji right as it happened, and Zenyatta had never been more grateful for the man’s boisterous salutations than when it allowed him a quiet escape.

Each flower after the first, which he had pressed flat and preserved in the pages of his oldest and fondest book, he transplants. They should languish, struggle in the climate, some out of season, other rooted in improper soil. Yet, each prospers in whatever environment Zenyatta gives it, sustained, perhaps, on something that cannot be measured. First in cans and old crates, whatever he could find, then in terracotta pots, brought back from missions when his companions had discovered his hobby.

It should terrify him when the plants multiply, each overgrown leaf and petal warm with fragrance, and maybe it does, somewhere far off, ripples that finally kiss the shore. Closer to his heart is amusement, the pleasant grip of affection. His brother had been right, more so than he thought. Born. Created. Raised. Programmed. Both produced physical manifestations of their emotions. Suffering.

Love.

63 percent.

Dr. Ziegler requests his assistance in the med bay.

She had managed all support operations in the early days of the recall, but as her duties increased with each new member, Zenyatta helps however he can. He often catalogued her findings and corroborated medical treatments, and during extended shifts, when the doctor stared unseeing into the cold glow of her holopad, he brewed her coffee sweetened with ten milliliters of honey.

Today, however, his sensors record a second voice as the door slides open.

The conversation dies to the sound of Genji’s respirator reattaching. He sits next to Angela near her desk, empty besides a holopad and a tiny vial of muted orange. It shouldn’t surprise him; they are close now, appreciation replacing the old bitter, anger that had soured their relationship a decade prior.

Her hand, steadily balanced on his knee, tightens once before letting go.

Genji does not look at him.

“Zenyatta, thank you for coming. We were just finishing up,” she says.

“Of course.”

Zenyatta hovers in the doorway, uninvited in all but word. A tinge of discord as familiar as his own chassis brushes against him.

“Is something troubling you, my student?”

The tightness around his eyes says what Genji will not.

“I do not wish to discuss it.”

Genji walks past him at 1.3 times his normal gait, hurrying with a vestige of calm. The door hisses shut. Angela sighs.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. He came in suddenly with an urgent matter.”

She pockets the vial while studying her holopad.

“My apologies as well. I did not mean to interrupt.”

Genji had not looked, had not felt like that in several months, not since before they had left the monastery. Had he been the cause? Interrupted a moment years in the making—

“Zenyatta.”

He meets her bright eyes. Only then does he notice what holds her attention.

Zenyatta tilts his head down, watching the steady crawl of vines, thorned and nicking delicate circuitry. From them, tiny buds of shocking yellow bloom against the tired gray of his chest. It hurts in a distant way, pinched like something caught between nodes, too deep to fix.

Her face is milk white, though her voice is steady.

“I have never seen an omnic with this before.”

Zenyatta nods. He lifts his servos, catching a finger beneath an unfurled rose. Small enough to rip away, to hide before anyone could see.

“It is still early in its progression,” he offers.

“Let me take a look at you.”

Zenyatta climbs onto the examination table.

She tells him what he already knows: potentially deadly, cured in one of two ways.

“I do not know omnic physiology well enough to perform the operation. Brigitte may.” Angela shakes her head. “Though I have the feeling that you will not be making an appointment regardless.”

“You know me well, Dr. Ziegler.”

“Well enough to make me worry.” She smiles though the pinch in her brow doesn’t ease. “What happens here is confidential. However, I would advise action. Whoever it is, they would not wish to watch you waste away.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

Her palm is warm on his shoulder, rougher than her unlined face suggests.

“Please take care of yourself.”

34 percent.

Zenyatta taps the last of the hibiscus into dark loam. The pot is large this time, proportional to the flower, a pleasing contrast to the more delicate plants in his collection. Soil clings to the joints of his fingers, but unlike the twist of roots within his body, it is easily removed.

“Wow. It is really coming along.”

A beat. A shudder.

“It is.”

32 percent.

Zenyatta stands with terracotta clutched in his hands, joints tight, slow. They are always such now. Mid morning sun brightens the garden into an ever-shifting kaleidoscope. Surrounded by the manifestation of his feelings while their cause stands scarcely a foot behind him serves as a surreal experience.

“I, uh, brought you something.”

The path of his orbs jumbles for a moment. It had been a several days since he had seen his student. Their last meeting reverberates silently between them, a topic not yet breached, not when Zenyatta struggles to protect the relationship they have.

Zenyatta steels himself, then turns to face Genji.

Clasped between the white and gray of his student’s hands is a potted, unbloomed tulip.

“Not as impressive as these exotic breeds, but it should thrive in this climate.”

“I did not know you were knowledgeable about gardening.” Zenyatta’s array brightens. Oh, how he forgets himself, unable to tamp down the swell of joy as Genji places it among the others.

“I’m afraid I’m not. I had to ask around the city.” Genji smiles softly as he glances back at him. “It should not surprise me that you are able to encourage the flowers themselves to try their hardest.”

29 percent.

There is no crawl. No twinge. The flowers burst from his chassis with near staggering force.

21 percent. He freezes only a moment, core trembling, but Genji is turned toward the balcony, admiring the blooms.

Zenyatta nearly trips as his hover module offlines. He knows there will be questions, but he cannot answer, not yet. He does not have the words. The time is wrong, wrong—

Genji calls after him, but Zenyatta doesn’t look back, cannot for fear of exposing himself. His feet clatter against the dark, metal hallways of the watch point, but luckily (unluckily), Genji does not pursue.

15 percent.

He does not avoid Genji. Not on purpose. Zenyatta does not eat, so he steers clear of the mess hall. Dr. Zeigler had banned him from active duty, watch point operations included, so Zenyatta spends most days in his garden. He tends it even as his power dwindles, mindful contemplation replaced with daydreams of half-baked confessions.

His gaze falls to the tulip that Genji had given him. It had struggled at first, a few cold nights throwing its health into uncertainty. Zenyatta had brought it inside, the added warmth giving it the chance it needed to bloom into a beautiful, glossy red that stands out among the rest.

The truth...

The truth is he is afraid. Could he really face Genji, soft eyes softer with pity for the old, scuffed omnic who had helped him when he was at his lowest? Genji would be kind. Maybe he would even humor him, and that would be the worst of all, a bandage over an infected wound that needed to be lanced and scraped clean.

But selfishness battles just as hotly. To look at Genji and feel nothing.

He would die from that too.

11 percent.

It has come time to talk.

Zenyatta expects hesitance, but as always, Genji surprises him. He arrives within minutes, wordlessly sits next to him on the tattered rug lining the center of the balcony. The flowers whisper, the garden bright and overflowing, gems, grand and small, glittering in the afternoon sun.

“I know you have been troubled these past weeks. My hesitance has caused you undue suffering.”

Genji doesn’t move.

“Often we assume that our feelings are known and cherished. A touch. A token. That action alone is sufficient.”

Zenyatta wants to laugh; of everything they have been through, this is where his resolve stumbles.

“We forget that it is necessary to voice these feelings aloud.”

The sea wind catches the flora, the heavy, overgrown leaves shuddering in the tepid air.

“Words are limited. They are fickle. An expression of them will never come close to articulating the feelings of the soul.”

Ten percent. The vines crawl and twist around his core. His synth glitches.

“Master—”

“Please, Genji.”

He clutches his chest, staggered by the not quite pain of energy rerouting. The scent of his garden revives him, each one catalogued, remembered, relived.

Nine percent.

Zenyatta looks at his orbs, deactivated and nestled within the nooks of the planters. He hasn’t possessed the power to control them in a fortnight.

“You have come far. Changed so much. You possess a strength that could save this world.” His core trembles as he speaks. “If something were to keep you from it...from finding happiness and purpose...I could not bear it.”

“I fear I may be such an obstacle.” Yet, he must press on, cling foolishly to hope.

Had he not been so close to shutdown, perhaps he would’ve known then. The shifting emotional energy from those nearby is lost to him in his final hours.

“It is impossible to describe how much I—”

Genji’s only give is his fingers sinking into his thighs. His student snaps forward, folding in on himself.

The sounds freeze Zenyatta’s words in his synth.

Loud, wet coughs rasp through Genji’s respirator, so painful it makes the vines around his core seize, makes Zenyatta ache.

He moves with what little energy he has left, hands flattening to Genji’s spasming back. A pathetic trickle of harmony warms his palms. His array powers off for a few, horrifying seconds. Not yet. Not now, with Genji injured—

Five percent.

The impulse strikes, the last, bent match in the book.

“I love you.”

His voice breaks hard over the word, doubling its syllables, mimicking an embarrassed stutter rather than an expulsion of the last of his power.

Everything is quiet. Still. Like being in the center of the monastery cloisters, where the howl of the wind and the sounds of life fade, the hum of his own systems muted within its immensity.

For a moment, he wonders if his audial receptors have failed.

Six percent.

The immobilizing tightness in his body eases, a fist slowly but surely unfurling. His servos slide off Genji’s back as he straightens. He registers a familiar hiss.

His array fizzles, then powers online in stages, monochromes to vivid color.

Genji’s looking at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. He wipes at his mouth, drawing Zenyatta’s attention.

The bright blue of petals smears over his lips.

“Zenyatta,” he breathes, awe warming into a smile that brightens his whole face. “The color suits you.”

Genji’s hand closes the distance between them, settling between his top two pistons.

The same petals coating Genji’s lips bloom along his metal. A swan song, it seems, as they wither and shrivel before his array.

“Forget-me-nots,” Genji says, then his smile grows mischievous. “You led me to believe you were a green thumb. Cheater.”

Zenyatta does not have the energy to laugh, but he cannot resist the cautious joy that manifests in his bugging synth.  

“A lie of omission. No one had asked,” he murmurs.

Genji’s hand shifts higher, the lightest touch against the gold chrome of his faceplate. There is no teasing lilt, no sheepishness. Quiet but clear.

“I love you, too.”

Zenyatta settles his hand over Genji’s, squeezing, leaning into his touch. They draw close, the smooth whisper of the garden reduced to the dry rattling of fall.

Just before their faces touch, Zenyatta speaks.

“You may find my french kiss lacking.”

Genji laughs against his chrome, heat and softness settling over the seam of his mouth.

“Whatever will we do?” he whispers, kissing him once more.

In the following days, after Zenyatta recuperates under Brigitte’s care (and many stern lectures), Genji helps him clean the balcony. They compost the decomposing remnants of the flowers, and repurpose them as a base for a new garden.

It is meticulous work, but rewarding. With the sun just beneath the horizon, they survey their progress. Planters line the ancient railings, each filled with properly spaced seeds hidden just beneath the surface. Local flora that would survive readily above the sea.

The only mark of color within is the tulip, fully bloomed, a promise of what’s to come.